


A Very Dark Corner

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6983269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. 1X2. Not even a hint of 2x3. Duo Maxwell is an aspiring writer who finds his lonely life suddenly filled with romance, intrigue, and horror. *Officially Abandoned*</p><p>*Moved over from ff.net. Originally posted December 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Dark Corner

Title: **A Very Dark Corner**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Gundam Wing/AC  
Author: Clara Barton  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M  
Genre: Romance/Drama  
Published: 12-11-11, Updated: 03-02-16  
Chapters: 8, Words: 44,186

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

Warnings: Language, violence, angst…major angst (probably a bit more than my usual. Okay, a LOT more than my usual), sex… yaoi sex, that is.

A/N: This fic evolved as a friendly challenge with Emilinia-sama. The original premise: Duo is an up and coming writer whose work is being used by a copy-cat serial killer; and on a MAYBE unrelated note he falls for a much younger Heero. She also suggested it be light and fluffy… but, well… yeah.

A/N #2: As always, a very special thanks to the fabulous Cuzosu!

A/N #3: Chapter 19 of **Umbra** is with my beta - I have not abandoned it! Expect it very soon!

A/N #4: The first part of this chapter is going to be very, VERY disturbing. The rest of this story will _not_ be that bad. I promise! Please, just… read through the entire chapter before you decide to give up.

**A Very Dark Corner**

Chapter One

_The moonlight cast a cold, silver glow on the floor. It made the old, wooden planks look like a precious metal and not the rotting boards of an old barn._

_He stalked closer, keeping to the shadows, waiting until the last moment before he revealed himself._

_The still night air was suddenly split by the sound of the woman's harsh sobs. She seemed to be gasping for breath while choking on her own tears._

_It sounded messy, to his ears, and he scowled in disgust. He didn't like messy. He liked order, and art. Sobbing didn't belong. He could imagine snot tracking its way down her pale face, and he felt his stomach revolt at the image. SHE was ruining everything._

_He stepped into the light and she shrieked and started to struggle with the bonds around her wrists that kept her suspended from the ceiling, a few inches from the ground._

_"Hush," he commanded her, modulating his voice to be soothing even though it was a command._

_She quieted instantly._

_He reached out and grasped her jaw between his fingers, forcing her to look at him in the dim light. Her eyes were large with fear, sparkling with unshed tears, and face stained with those she had already released._

_THERE was the art._

_He licked at her tears, starting from her cheek and ending, his tongue tangled in her damp eyelashes. She whimpered in fear and tried to jerk away from him, but he only laughed._

_"Do you know what my favorite color is?" He asked her._

_She shook her head in his hand._

_"Guess," he prompted._

_"B…bl..black?" She stuttered._

_He laughed._

_"No. Black is so boring. It hides EVERYTHING. Guess again."_

_"Blu – blue?"_

_"Too cold. Here let me give you a hint."_

_In one smooth gesture he stabbed her with the machete, shoving the long blade deep into her side and withdrawing it out slowly, languidly, so that he could feel her body give way._

_She gasped in pain._

_"Now," he said and wiped the flat of the blade on her lips, staining them, "what color do you think is my favorite?"_

_She continued to gasp, sucking in huge breaths of air and started to sob again._

_"None of that," he ordered. "_ Stop _sobbing."_

_She ignored his command and he sighed in frustration._

_"_ Stop _it_ now _."_

_The sobbing only grew worse._

_With a growl of frustration he stabbed her again, higher this time, arching the blade under her ribcage and into her lungs._

_She howled in pain._

_"_ Stop it _!" He shouted over her and stabbed her again, and again, until, finally, she fell quiet and limp._

_He sighed in defeat._

_One day, one day he would find someone who_ listened _to him._

_But for now, at least he could watch the tide of her blood, violet in the silver light, track across the floor like the tide of some primordial sea. At least he had that._

-0-

He clicked on submit and then sat back and cracked his knuckles and twisted his neck from side to side. The sense of catharsis he felt was a relief. Writing was Duo's escape, and putting all of his dark thoughts into words and emptying them from his mind was the only way he could face each day.

He glanced at the time and cursed. He was going to be late for his appointment.

Duo tossed back the rest of his coffee, wincing when he realized it had gone cold. He dropped the empty mug into the kitchen sink on his way to his bedroom.

After rifling through his closet and dresser he realized that the only clean clothes he had left were a pair of jeans and Solo's Princeton sweatshirt. He knew that if he showed up wearing that sweatshirt there would be hell to pay, but Duo was confident that showing up in a stained or wrinkled dress shirt would be even worse.

With a sigh, Duo shucked out of his flannel pajama bottoms and boxers and pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, the jeans, and then the sweatshirt. He grabbed the collar and inhaled deeply, hoping to catch just the faintest hint of Solo on it. Instead of smelling rich and spicy, however, it smelled like the rain scented laundry detergent that Duo had switched to a few months ago.

He mentally berated himself for being an idiot and then stepped into his sneakers, grabbed his keys and wallet, and slammed out of the apartment.

By the time he arrived at the brownstone that had been renovated into offices across town from his apartment he was twenty minutes late. He prepared himself for an ass kicking and resignedly jogged up the interior stairs to the third floor.

He stopped in front of the second door on the right. A gold nameplate had been affixed to the door, and Duo reflexively wiped off the smudge on one corner of it. He knocked.

The door opened a moment later and Duo took a step backwards.

Wufei Chang, Doctor of Psychology, glared at Duo.

"You're late."

"Sorry, doc, I got distracted and lost track of the time."

Wufei sighed and stepped back, allowing Duo to enter the office.

Duo stepped inside and immediately headed for the leather armchair by the window.

The entire room was decorated sparsely, with dark wood paneling a strong contrast to the light blue paint on the walls. The only furniture in the room was two armchairs, a loveseat, and a writing desk situated on the wall between two windows.

The first time Duo had come here for a therapy session he had sneered at the lack of abstract art – Wufei wasn't the first psychologist he had been to, after all, and he had expected to be inundated with tribal sculptures or Jackson Pollack-esque paintings. Wufei preferred to keep the walls empty, however, and the only work of art in the room was a yin and yang painting over the fireplace.

Duo had spent countless hours staring at that painting, and he immediately focused on it now as Wufei sat down in the armchair opposite from Duo.

"Were you writing?" Wufei asked casually. He loosely folded his hands in his lap.

Duo appreciated that Wufei never took notes while they talked. He knew that the meticulous Chinese man no doubt scribbled away as soon as Duo left, but he appreciated the appearance of complete absorption from him while Duo sat in the chair and tried his damnedest to avoid discussing anything relevant.

"Yeah," Duo said and shrugged. "For the blog, though."

Wufei nodded.

"Have you begun work on the book?"

Duo shrugged again.

"I've got an outline. Sort of."

"Hm."

Duo frowned and looked away from the painting. He met Wufei's frank, dark gaze.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You said 'hm.'"

"Yes, I suppose I did."

Duo sighed.

"So, what? Just say it already."

"What's keeping you from starting the book?"

Duo leaned back in the chair.

"Nothing. I just…"

"Just what?" Wufei prompted after a moment.

"I just – I'm scared, okay? I'm terrified that I'm going to fuck it up."

"Does that matter?"

"What?"

"You fucking it up?" Wufei scowled slightly as he repeated Duo's words, and Duo had to fight back a grin at the other man's discomfort with swearing.

"Yeah. Doesn't it?"

Wufei shrugged.

"Why did you start writing in the first place?" Wufei asked.

"Because _you_ told me to!"

"Yes, I did, didn't I? Why?"

Duo frowned. "You said that writing down my dreams would help me analyze them and give me perspective on… the past."

"And did it?"

"Yeah, a bit."

"And then what?"

"Huh?"

"After you started writing down your dreams, what did I ask you to do?"

"You suggested that I write a blog."

"Why?"

"Because you think I'm drowning in a Catholic sense of guilt and that public confession is the only way I'm ever going to recover from my depression."

"Has it helped?"

"Yeah, it has." Duo had resisted the psychologist's suggestion from the start, and it had taken him weeks before he actually sat down and created his blog site. It had been another week before he had gotten drunk enough one night to actually write on the damn thing. Now, six months later, it was the most natural thing in the world for him to wake up, write an entry, and then face the rest of his day. When people had actually started to respond to his posts he had initially been horrified – he didn't want their judgment, but even worse, he didn't think he deserved their acceptance or accolades. He couldn't decide if it made him pathetic or not, but reading over his followers comments had become the highlight of his days. At least now he _had_ a highlight, he consoled himself.

"And then you got the book deal."

Duo frowned. "Yeah." One of his earliest followers turned out to be an editor with Random House, and after following Duo for nearly half a year he had approached him with a book deal. It had only been three weeks since Duo had accepted the deal, and every day he woke up doubting the decision.

"How is this different than the blog?"

Duo shrugged. "I guess… well, people will pay for it, right? So what if it's complete shit?"

"Do you care? It isn't as if you are doing this for the money."

"But isn't it… wrong? I mean, this is supposed to be my therapy."

"I don't think it's wrong, necessarily. Especially not if you intend to give me ten percent of the profit."

Duo laughed at that.

"Does it feel wrong because it makes you remember or because it makes you forget?" Wufei asked, his sudden, insightful question cutting deep.

"Is it wrong? To want to remember?"

"No, of course not. But I think that Solo, your parents, Father Maxwell – all of them would want you to move on. To heal."

"It's just so fucking hard!" Duo rubbed his palms against his face. "I think about them all the time!"

"Maybe the writing isn't helping, then."

"No, no, it is. Before, Christ, I don't want to talk about this," Duo caught himself and shook his head.

"Duo, running away will accomplish nothing."

"It'll keep me from having to spill my guts."

"Prolonging the inevitable makes it no less inevitable."

"Okay, Mr. Fortune Cookie. Fine." Duo scowled. "Before I started writing it was hard to breathe, most days. It just seemed like everything around me was so empty and meaningless, and my head was just – all I had were the memories, you know? Some days I'd just lie in bed, all day, just close my eyes and try to _be_ in those memories. But then _you_ made me start writing. I don't know why, but it helps. I still remember them, my life is still so fucking empty it's hard to do anything, but… I can get out of bed, right? So that's something."

"It isn't enough, Duo. Getting out of bed is _not_ enough."

Duo sighed.

"That sweater," Wufei started.

"Yeah?"

"You didn't go to Princeton, did you? I thought you went to Florida State."

"It's Solo's sweater – he went to Princeton for undergrad – and before you get all worked up, it was the only clean shirt I had."

"Hm."

"I _hate_ when you make that sound!"

Wufei arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, okay, so I haven't done laundry lately."

"Why?"

"Because… well, I usually do it on Mondays so that I have something clean for today, but I tried to write yesterday and I just… kind of stared at the wall until the Laundromat was closed."

"Duo, do you think that it's hard, this time of year, for you to focus?"

"Huh?"

"It's October 12th, Duo. It's six weeks from the anniversary of Solo's death."

"I… I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know what day it is – there's a damn calendar on my blog. I just… shit, it is six weeks, isn't it?" He scrubbed at his eyes again.

"Have you found yourself thinking about him more recently?"

Duo reluctantly nodded.

Wufei sighed.

"Have you tried going out?"

"Out?"

"On a date?"

"No!"

Wufei arched an eyebrow at his reaction.

"I mean, hell, Wufei, it's only been -"

"A year, Duo. It's been a _year_ since Solo died. In that time, how many men have you been with?"

"One," Duo reluctantly admitted.

Wufei looked surprised.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Duo –"

"I'm not being evasive. I really don't know who he was. It was… the night after Solo's funeral. I got completely wasted and… I couldn't face going back home, to our bed. So… I went to a bar, found a guy, and went home with him. I left the next morning before he woke up."

"We've never discussed this before."

"You've never tried to tell me that I need to get laid before, so… I guess it never came up."

"Duo, why do you think you are reluctant to engage in a new relationship?"

"Um… is that a real question?"

"Yes."

"Because I don't want someone _else_ that I love to die on me."

"Then why haven't you had a string of one night stands? Like that nameless man?"

"Because I felt so damned dirty afterwards that I wanted to kill myself! Christ, I was with Solo for seven years! Seven! And then, the moment he dies, I hook up with some random guy – I'm never going to forget that, Wufei."

"So that last encounter prevents you from even seeking out the company of another man. Even for a casual relationship."

"Yeah."

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You fixate on negative situations and punish yourself as a way to remain connected with your past. I think you are afraid to move on, to start a new life, _not_ because you are afraid of commitment, but because you are afraid that if you are happy, even for one second, you will forget _them_."

Duo frowned. The words hit too close to home for him.

"So what? I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with _that_?"

"Fix it."

"I thought that was _your_ job."

"No, I'm trying to guide you to healing yourself. My _job_ is to listen to you, to help you figure out what you are really feeling and thinking. And to tell you to get off your ass and _do_ something."

Duo frowned. "I don't think you're supposed to be mean to me."

"I prefer to think of it as tough love. Duo, we've met weekly for the past eight months. In that time I've watched you become a human being again, and while I am _very_ proud of the fact that you no longer spend half the week in bed, you still have a ways to go." Wufei stood up. "I'm giving you a homework assignment for this week."

"What? No. Not again!" During the first few months of therapy, when Duo had fought tooth and nail to avoid discussing anything at all, Wufei had constantly given him 'homework assignments' – one of the first had been to record his dreams. But they had been as mundane as trying a new restaurant or as trying as visiting his parents grave. He dreaded this one.

"Go on a date."

"No."

"Yes. I'm not asking you to meet your soul mate. Just… go on a date. Take a guy out to dinner, or meet him for drinks."

"I don't even – who am I supposed to ask out? You?"

"Even if I _was_ interested _,_ that would be unethical."

"Thanks. Your support is overwhelming."

"Duo, I'm straight. You _know_ this. _If_ I was gay and if I wasn't your therapist, rest assured that I would be at the head of the line of men who found you attractive and charming."

"You think I'm charming?"

"Sometimes. Not often." Wufei shook his head. "Now, go forth and flirt. I'll see you next week. _Please_ try to be on time."

"Okay. Um… thanks."

Wufei nodded.

"Of course. And don't hesitate to call me, if you need to. I'm here for you."

Duo managed a wan smile.

"Thanks, Doc."He rose and let himself out.

He decided to walk home. It would give him longer to sulk, and also allow him to postpone going back to his apartment and finally doing laundry.

As he walked he went through the mental list of men he knew. It was depressingly short, and none of the men he knew were ones he had ever considered jumping into bed with.

Then again, he had only _ever_ considered jumping into bed with Solo. He had never even thought about what life would be like after Solo. For the past year he had buried himself away from his friends. At least once a month he went out with Hilde Schiebecker, his oldest and closest friend, but he kept even her at a distance.

He frowned. Hadn't she mentioned something about wanting to set him up with one of her friends?

Duo pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number.

"Hey!" She answered after a few rings. The pleasure in her voice made him feel a tinge of guilt. He really _should_ talk to her more.

"Hil, how ya been?"

"I've been good. How are you? I haven't talked to you in… like two weeks!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I meant to call you back, but –"

"Duo, it's okay. You called me back _now_. So, what's up?"

"Uh…" he felt awkward and downright creepy even thinking about asking her to set up a date for him. "Well, you mentioned that you had a friend, you know, who I might hit it off with."

She was silent.

"Hil?"

"Duo, when I told you about Zechs you almost snapped my head off. You called me an insensitive bitch and –"

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just – fuck, Hil, I'm such a mess."

"So I've noticed. Does this mean you're finally ready to start picking up the pieces?"

"Yeah, I guess. Wufei thinks I need to get laid. He wants me to go on a date this week."

"Really?"

"Crazy, right?"

"No, I think it's great. I mean, Duo, it's been a year – and before you call me an insensitive bitch again, I just want to make it clear that I love you. You are my absolute best friend, even if we don't talk as much as we should. I need you to be happy."

"Happy's going to be a stretch. Let's aim for functioning, shall we?"

Hilde sighed. "So, you want Zechs' phone number?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. What did you say he did?"

"He's an assistant DA, like me."

"Gotcha. So I'm going to have to listen to fancy lawyer speak."

"You know you think it's sexy."

"Meh."

"Okay, I'm texting you his number, and I'll let him know to expect a call from you. This is a really big step for you, Duo. I'm proud."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

He hung up the phone and felt a miniscule sense of triumph. He was almost guaranteed to have a lousy time – possibly horribly embarrass himself – but at least it would complete Wufei's homework assignment.

* * *

On Thursday night Duo managed to shave, dress, braid his hair, and still arrive at the restaurant fifteen minutes early for his date with Zechs Merquise.

Zechs had picked the restaurant, an upscale French restaurant only a few blocks from Duo's apartment. He looked around, but there were no men sitting by themselves at any of the tables, so he headed straight for the bar and sat on one of the stools off to the side, allowing him an excellent view of the entrance to the restaurant.

The bartender, a young, blue eyed man with messy, dark hair, walked up.

"What can I get you?" He asked, his voice a rich baritone that seemed a sharp contrast with his youth and slight build.

"Scotch and soda – a little light on the soda, if you don't mind."

The bartender nodded and moved off, a moment later he returned with Duo's drink and then left him again.

Duo downed the drink quickly and signaled for another.

It wasn't that he was nervous about the date so much as completely terrified. He was so far out of his depth – he had spent the past year as little more than a hermit, only going out for work, grocery shopping, or meeting Hilde. And it had been seven years since he had actually tried to flirt with anyone other than Solo. They had spent so many years together, had developed so many inside jokes and experienced so much together, that at times it was hard for Duo to even talk to Hilde. It was as though he and Solo had developed a new, secret language – and now Duo had to try and translate everything back into English, only it simply didn't work.

Duo tossed back the second drink and then signaled for a third.

The bartender approached with a frown.

"You know, if you're just going to inhale them like that, would you like me to switch to the cheaper scotch? You're wasting it, like this."

Duo arched an eyebrow at the judgment in the young man's voice.

"My money to waste, isn't it?"

The bartender shrugged.

"Sure, but it's still a shame to waste good scotch. Also a shame to be drinking alone, in the middle of the week."

"I'm not – I'm waiting on a date."

"By getting drunk?" There was a hint of amusement in his dark blue eyes.

"It's a blind date – not only that, the first _first_ date I've been on in seven years."

"So you're nervous."

"No shit." Duo tapped his glass.

The bartender shook his head, but took the glass away. Duo watched as he refilled it, this time with a liberal amount of soda and only a dash of scotch.

"You got that wrong," Duo commented when he handed it back.

"Are you trying to sabotage it by scaring her off?" He asked.

Duo scowled and sipped at the much weaker drink.

"Him. And no – well, maybe. Hell, I don't know."

"You're too cute to blow a date just because you're nervous," the bartender said, over his shoulder, as he walked away to serve another customer.

Duo's jaw dropped. Was the bartender flirting with him? He shook his head. Probably the guy was hoping for a decent tip.

He crunched on an ice cube and continued to survey the front entrance.

A moment later a ghost walked in.

Duo almost fell off his barstool at the sight of the tall, golden haired man dressed in a gray three piece suit walking up to the hostess. Even from this distance, Duo could see that the man's eyes were a bright, light blue that was offset by his lightly tanned skin. There was a slight, upward curve of his lips, almost a smirk, as he spoke to the hostess.

"Zechs Merquise," the man said to the hostess, "I have a reservation, for two?"

Duo watched as the hostess led him to a table and he sat down. He looked incredibly at ease, amazingly confident, and disturbingly identical to Solo.

"You okay?"

The bartender was back, and he was frowning at Duo.

"Yeah, uh, my date is here." He nodded to Zechs.

"Hm. He's hot."

"Sure. He looks just like – fucking hell, what was she _thinking_?" Duo resisted the urge to pull at his hair. How had Hilde managed to track down someone who looked so much like Solo?

"I need another. Just scotch, no soda."

The bartender frowned.

"Seriously, if I don't walk over there buzzed and completely numb I'm probably going to – I don't know what, but it won't be pretty."

As the bartender reluctantly filled a fresh glass with straight scotch, Duo dug out enough money to cover the four drinks and leave a generous tip.

"Thanks," he said when the bartender came back. "I appreciate it."

He threw back the drink, wincing at the burn of the alcohol on the back of his throat, and then set down the glass and headed straight for Zechs.

"Hey – Zechs?" He forced a smile as he approached.

The blonde man stood and smiled back.

"You must be Duo."

"Yeah."

"Please, join me." Zechs gestured to the opposite chair and waited for Duo to sit before resuming his own seat. "Hilde's told me so much about you – I was sure that she had exaggerated your good looks, but now, I'm not sure she did them justice."

"Ha, well, she neglected to tell me _anything_ about how you looked."

Zechs looked expectant, as though he thought Duo should add something on to his statement.

"But, ah, it's nice to meet you," Duo added lamely.

"Have you been here before?" Zechs asked.

"Er, yeah, a few years ago, when it first opened. But not in a while."

Zechs nodded.

They sat in awkward silence until the waiter arrived to take their drink orders.

"How would you feel about splitting a bottle of the Cote Rotie?"

Duo frowned and scanned the wine menu – the Cote Rotie was a Syrah, from France. He heaved a mental sigh. Solo had been crazy about Syrah – by far his favorite red wine – and Duo vividly remembered the summers they had spent in France together, Solo visiting all of his favorite vintners and bringing home cases and cases of wine. Solo had loved Cote Rotie.

"Um, what about the Rock Syrah instead?" Duo suggested. "Sorry, I just prefer American wines."

Zechs arched an eyebrow but shrugged.

"Of course."

The waiter moved off.

"Most French wines are actually bred with American grapes, anyway," Duo continued. He had learned this during one of Solo's lengthy lectures on the subject.

"Really?"

"Mhm. Something to do with blights and genetics and things."

Zechs looked amused.

"I confess I just enjoy the taste, I've never thought to research the science behind it."

"Yeah, I don't care too much for it either – just, you know, I heard something on NPR about it." It was a lie, but certainly better than saying, 'My dead fiancé was crazy about wine, so I had to listen to him go on and on about it all the time.'

"So… Hilde says you're an assistant DA?" Duo thought he should try to contribute something to the conversation.

"Yes, this is my third year at the DA's office."

"Any plans for moving up the ladder?"

"No, I'll work here for another year or two, and then I'll start work at my father's law firm."

"Oh." Now Duo knew why the name Merquise sounded so familiar. The Merquise law firm was one of the most well known in the city, and Alexander Merquise, patriarch of the vast and enormously wealthy Merquise family, was a prominent figure at society events.

"And you? Hilde didn't say what you did."

Duo shrugged. "I, ah, well, I guess I'm a writer?"

"You don't sound so sure," Zechs smirked. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and the expression was classic Solo – so much so that Duo forgot to breathe for a moment.

"Yeah, it's kind of a new thing. I guess. I just got a book deal, so I'm… you know, starting out on that."

"And before your new career?"

"I volunteer at a few places – the library, the soup kitchen – I just… you know, things to keep busy."

"I see."

"It's not that I'm like, a great guy or anything – I just need something to occupy my time and I'm not really good at the whole concept of working at an office, and I've got money, so…" Duo realized that he was rambling. "Yeah." He finished.

"It certainly _sounds_ like you're a great guy," Zechs argued.

"No, it's –"

"You aren't used to getting complimented, are you?"

"Not recently, so much, no."

"Or flirting, I take it, since you've missed about ten chances to do that."

"Uh, how much did Hilde tell you? About me?"

Zech's eyes narrowed.

"Not much – just that you were one of her oldest and closest friends, amazingly good looking, wickedly smart, and very funny."

"And… that was it?"

"She might have mentioned you liked French food."

Duo nodded. "That's a popular misconception. I'm actually – don't get me wrong, French food is great, but I'm not, you know, a connoisseur or anything."

"Okay… that isn't really a deal breaker for me."

"Well, the reason why people think I like French food is because Solo was obsessed with it."

"Solo?"

"Yeah, he was my fiancé. He died a year ago. We'd been together for seven years. So I guess, you know, by that point, people start to assume that if one person likes something the other does too. And that's what happened with the French food – same thing with tequila. I hate the stuff, but Solo loved it, so people always thought I liked it too. Oh, and peanut butter – see, me, I'm crazy about it, but Solo was allergic – one bite and he'd die, pretty much. But that's not how he did. Die, I mean. Yep – see, that's where I lost you."

Zechs had gone from looking carefully neutral to mildly alarmed. He shook his head and composed his features.

"No, I just, I wish she had told me. Is that – are you –"

"It's my first date, since him, if that's what you're asking. And you know the really crazy thing? Oh, thank God, the wine is here."

Before Duo could further humiliate himself the waiter arrived with the bottle of wine. He let Zechs sample it, which the blonde man did very absent mindedly, before pouring both of them full glasses.

Duo immediately took a healthy sip of his.

"Are we ready to order?" The waiter asked.

"I think we need –" Zechs started.

"No, I'm ready if you are," Duo interrupted. He suddenly, very desperately, wanted this night to end as quickly as possible.

"Of course," Zechs said with a slight frown.

Duo briefly entertained the idea of just ordering soup, but that would be too obviously rude, instead he ordered the smoked duck and spinach salad.

"I'll have the same," Zechs said, still frowning.

Once the waiter left silence fell over them.

"So… what do you write? What is your book about?" Zechs asked after a few minutes.

Duo had to give him credit for even bothering to try.

"Horror. Suspense – horror. Lots of blood and violence and death."

Zechs' eyes widened.

"Oh."

"Yep." Duo finished off his glass of wine and refilled it.

"Have you –"

"Listen, I'm sorry. You are obviously… a really amazing guy. Well mannered, charming – I'm sure that you're used to having witty conversations with equally charming dates. But I'm not – when I talk, I don't shut up, and I can't talk to _you_ without – look, let's just… how about we not talk?"

"I'm sorry?"

"We've already established you think I'm good looking – and it goes without saying that you're ridiculously handsome. So…let's just look at each other, eat our food, and call it a night?"

Zechs looked ready to argue.

"Please," Duo quickly added.

"If that's what you want."

"Yes. Thank you." Duo let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat.

He looked around the restaurant, trying to distract himself from Solo's doppelganger, and found himself focusing on the bartender.

The young man was leaning back against the wall, drying off glasses, and looking right at Duo.

There was something almost mesmerizing about his gaze, even at this distance, and Duo found himself wishing that he had just remained at the bar instead of subjecting himself to the torture of a date with Zechs.

The bartender's features were captivatingly exotic. He had high, broad cheekbones, tanned skin, a full mouth, and those incredible eyes. Duo wondered what combination of ethnicities had produced such a strong and unique facial structure.

Their staring match ended when a customer approached and the bartender moved away. With a sigh, Duo forced himself to look back at Zechs.

The blonde man was still frowning at him, as though Duo were some puzzle for him to work out. Duo tried to squash the guilt he felt – yes, Zechs had clearly agreed to this date expecting someone else entirely. But then, so had Duo. He still couldn't believe that Hilde had failed to mention that Zechs looked so much like Solo.

They had completely different noses, Duo was able to eventually decide. Solo's had been broader, while Zech's was longer and narrower – very aristocratic looking compared to Solo's more ruggedly defined nose.

Duo rolled his own eyes at himself. He was being completely ridiculous.

Finally their salads arrived, and Duo attacked his with gusto, uncaring that he was displaying the manners of a caveman.

He was relieved when, after a momentary hesitation, Zechs followed his example and ate quickly.

When the date finally ended, fifteen minutes later, Duo insisted on paying the bill.

"I'm really sorry about this," he said to Zechs after the waiter took away his credit card and the bill. "This ruined a perfectly good Thursday night for you. And –"

"Duo."

He stopped talking and looked into Zechs' eyes.

"I think we should try this again. Maybe in a few months? When you're ready."

The waiter returned and handed Duo his credit card.

"I don't –"

Zechs leaned over and kissed Duo on his cheek, just below his ear.

"I'll look forward to meeting you again," Zechs said with a smile before standing up and walking away.

Duo rubbed at the spot on his cheek where Zechs' warm lips had just been.

Solo used to kiss him there – just below his ear, on the sharp point of his jaw bone.

Numb, Duo scribbled his name and the tip on the receipt before stuffing his card back in his wallet and getting to his feet.

He started to walk to the door but he was struck by such an intense feeling of emptiness that he couldn't bring himself to go home.

With a sigh he went back to the bar and sat down at the back corner of it.

After a moment the bartender approached him.

"I'm guessing it didn't go well."

"Depends on your definition of 'well'," Duo said with a sneer.

"Considering that you look _more_ depressed that you did when you came in, I'm going to keep my definition of well and say that it sucked."

Duo let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah, what can I say? I'm just _that_ charming _."_

The bartender's gaze was soft and sympathetic as he regarded Duo.

"Look, can I get another scotch and soda?"

The bartender scowled.

"I noticed you finished off more than half a bottle of wine."

"What are you , my sponsor?"

"Do you have one I should call?"

"No! I'm not an alcoholic. It's just been a really, _really_ bad night. I'm not driving either – if that's what you're worried about."

"No, I'm worried about you drowning yourself in alcohol."

" _Not_ your problem," Duo assured him. "Now, please, another drink."

The bartended slowly and very reluctantly brought him a scotch and soda.

"Before, when you first saw him – your date – you kind of freaked out."

"Yeah, well, seeing the ghost of your dead fiancé will do that to you," Duo muttered into his glass.

The bartender arched an eyebrow.

"I mean, not literally – I'm not drunk enough to think that my date was a ghost or anything. But he – Christ he looks so much like Solo it's just… it's a fucking crime, that's what it is."

The bartender frowned.

"Solo is your… dead fiancé."

"Yep. Died a year ago in six weeks."

"I'm sorry for your loss." The sympathy in his voice was genuine, and Duo found himself nodding and looking away from the bartender's eyes.

"Me too."

"So that's why this was your first _first_ date, in seven years."

"Yeah."

"He seemed to like you."

"Well, I kind of like my sanity, and I'm not enough of a masochist to _want_ to jump into bed with a guy who looks _that_ much like Solo. Not to mention – " Duo cut himself off and shook his head. "I am such a fucking disaster."

The bartender frowned.

"Not wanting to date a cheap replica of a man you loved doesn't make you a disaster. Doesn't it signal the opposite?"

"Huh?"

"If you _were_ a disaster, wouldn't you _want_ to _,_ you know, punish yourself or whatever by being with him? Trying to recapture a lost relationship?"

"Jesus, you sound like my shrink."

The bartender smirked.

"Part of the job, I guess."

"Aren't you a little young to be doling out sage advice?" Duo asked.

"I'm twenty-one, not that young."

"Yeah, it is," Duo assured him after taking another sip of the scotch. "God, twenty-one – you've got a lot of living ahead of you."

"So do you, what are you, twenty-five?"

Duo laughed.

"I wish. Try twenty-eight."

The bartender seemed a little taken aback by Duo's advanced age.

"Thanks – that look – that is the perfect end to my night."

"I'm sorry, I didn't – twenty-eight is still young."

"Almost thirty."

"Two years from it."

"Close enough, though, from _your_ point of view, isn't it?"

The bartender winced, but reluctantly nodded.

"Ah, it's okay, kid. One day _you_ will be my age and some young punk will give you shit about it."

"I wasn't trying to – I'm very sorry."

"Seriously, out of everything that happened tonight, you thinking that I'm _old_ is pretty much the least of my concern."

Duo finished his drink and stood.

"Anyway, thanks for crushing my ego." He pulled out a few bills and laid them on the counter.

"How far away do you live?" The bartender asked.

Duo frowned.

"Not too far – a few blocks."

"Are you walking or taking a cab?"

"Uh… is this kind of inquest your normal way of getting a better tip?"

The bartender sighed and pulled off his black half apron.

"I'm taking you home."

"What? I'm perfectly fine!"

"You are right _now_ – because you're in public and you're mad. As soon as you step outside, where it's cold and dark and miserably depressing you won't be." The bartender's blue gaze was hard.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"Yeah," the other man agreed with a scowl. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Just let me make sure you get home safely. I – I'd do the same for _any_ old man who'd had as much to drink as you."

"Burn," Duo muttered, but couldn't help smiling back at the bartender's cocky grin.

"Just give me one minute, I'll be right back."

Duo sat back down on his stool as the bartender disappeared through a set of doors presumably leading to the kitchen. As he continued to sit, Duo realized that he _had_ had too much to drink. His head was starting to feel very sloshy, and he was very grateful when the bartender came back.

"Okay, where do you live?" He asked.

"Few blocks from here," Duo told him.

The bartender nodded.

"Let's go."

Duo stood and suddenly had to focus a great deal of attention on walking. He was grateful that the bartender didn't talk to him again until they were outside and well on their way to Duo's apartment.

"Do you drink this much often?"

The question surprised him and he stumbled. The bartender caught his shoulders before he fell and helped steady him.

"No. Not often. Not this much in… months. Not since our anniversary. I mean – it would have been our anniversary."

"I understand."

"I'm not an alcoholic," Duo repeated again. "I have a few drinks, every now and then – not like this."

"I see."

"Oh come on, like you don't drink at all?"

"I don't."

"And you're a bartender?"

"My dad is an alcoholic. He – he's a great example of what I do _not_ want to do with my life." There was an amazing amount of bitterness in his voice.

"Oh." Duo frowned. "So why are you a bartender?"

He sighed. "It's my uncle's restaurant. He gave me a job while I'm in college here. And… I've had a lifetime's experience mixing drinks for my dad, so… I know what I'm doing. And I believe you."

"About?"

"Not being an alcoholic. But just because you don't drink this much _all_ the time doesn't mean you should – ever."

"Best way to stop thinking," Duo assured him.

The bartender frowned.

"Stop thinking? Why would you want to stop thinking? It's wrong to -"

"Look, why don't you talk to me about it after your family has been killed in a car accident, your group home burned to the ground and everyone dying, and your fiancé gets murdered on the way back from his bachelor party, the week before you're supposed to get married. And _then_ you can talk to me about my methods of coping."

Before the bartender could say anything in response to Duo's rant, they arrived at his apartment building.

"Anyway, this is home. _Thank_ you for the escort, oh noble and judgmental youth."

The bartender frowned again.

"Are you going to be okay on your own?"

" _Yes_. This old man is perfectly capable of passing out in his own bed without your assistance."

"Okay."

The bartender continued to look uneasy, but Duo just sneered at him and stomped up the stairs, unlocked the door to his building, and then slammed it closed behind him. He didn't look back.

"Such a fucking disaster," he repeated to himself as he climbed the stairs up to his apartment. "A fucking disaster."

* * *

**Chapter 2: Chapter 2**

* * *

Warnings: Language, violence, angst…major angst (probably a bit more than my usual. Okay, a LOT more than my usual), sex… yaoi sex, that is.

A/N: This fic evolved as a friendly challenge with Emilinia-sama. The original premise: Duo is an up and coming writer whose work is being used by a copy-cat serial killer; and on a MAYBE unrelated note he falls for a much younger Heero. She also suggested it be light and fluffy… but, well… yeah.

A/N #2: As always, a very special thanks to the fabulous Cuzosu!

**A Very Dark Corner**

Chapter Two

Duo had never been much of a drinker. Solo had favored wine, and Duo would often join him for a glass, but it wasn't until after Solo's death that Duo had started branching out to liquor. The sensation of waking up, hung over, depressed, and full of self-hatred was one that, while relatively new, Duo had come to know well in the past year.

Judging by the sun it seemed that he had slept until nearly noon, yet it was an effort to drag himself out of bed. He stumbled and staggered his way to the bathroom and by some miracle managed to shower. He drank a fair amount of the water that rained down on him, and after he brushed his teeth he felt almost human again.

Half a pot of black coffee and two pieces of toast later, he _was_ human. Which in no way eliminated his depression and self-hatred.

He couldn't believe what he had done last night. Bad enough to boggle the date with Zechs – and in his mind, that act had been completely understandable and in fact necessary – but then he had gone and yelled at some innocent kid who had just wanted to make sure he got home safely.

Duo groaned. He was _such_ an asshole. He remembered the look on the kid's face as he had stormed up the stairs. His blue eyes had been filled with concern, and the scowl on his face had spoken volumes.

The phone rang, startling Duo out of his reverie. It took him a while to find it, since he had apparently started to strip out of his clothes as soon as he came in the door last night, but he eventually found it under his couch.

"Yeah?" He answered, a little breathless from his search efforts.

"Duo."

He closed his eyes at the sound of Hilde's voice. He should have _known_ she would call him to see how the date went, but he had hoped she could have waited until… never, to do so.

"Hey, Hilde," he said, forcing himself to sound bright.

"How did things go last night with Zechs?"

"Oh, you know…"

"No, I don't. That's why I'm calling. Talk to me!"

Duo scratched at his hair and tried to think of a polite way to tell her that setting him up with Zechs was the worst possible idea she could have _ever_ had _._

"Hilde, you didn't mention what Zechs looked like. Before I met him."

"I don't understand. He's blonde, has amazing blue eyes. He's your type. Did you not – are you trying to tell me you weren't attracted to him?"

"Hilde, my _type_? I don't – Hilde, I do _not_ have a type. In all the time you've known me, I've been with _one_ guy, ever."

"And Zechs looks like him."

"Yeah!" Duo agreed with a shout.

"Duo, how is that bad?"

"Hilde, he looks _just_ like Solo. They have different noses, okay, and Zechs probably has ten or fifteen pounds on Solo, but they look _the same_. Christ, their hair is almost the exact same length! And how many men do you know who have _long_ blonde hair?"

"So you weren't attracted to him," she concluded with a sigh.

"No, of course I was! But no, I wasn't. I was attracted to Solo and – Hilde, I cannot believe – he's like a fucking clone!"

"They don't look _that_ – huh."

"What?" Duo asked her wearily.

"Sorry, I just pulled up a photo of you and Solo on my computer. You're right, actually, Zechs _does_ look a lot like him. A lot a lot like him."

Duo closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Yes. I noticed."

"I guess I for –" she stopped herself.

"You forgot what Solo looked like," Duo filled in for her.

"No," she said immediately. "I just – Christ, I'm making a mess of this. Duo, I'm sorry. I did _not_ mean to foist off a Solo clone on you. I thought that you would like him because he has similar features to Solo, but – damn, it really is uncanny. Even their eyebrows are -"

"Stop looking at the damn photo!" he barked at her.

"Sorry, sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking."

"It doesn't matter," Duo sighed. "It would have been a disaster anyway. I'm _not_ ready to start dating again."

"So… what did happen?" she asked after a momentary hesitation.

"Oh, you know, I got pretty wasted before he showed up and then told him I'd prefer it if he didn't talk, at all, while we ate, and then – he fucking kissed me good night, Hilde! On my jaw! Just like Solo used to do! – I yelled at some kid and then passed out."

"Wait, wait, you yelled – he kissed you on that spot, below your ear?" Her voice went very soft.

"Yeah," he raggedly agreed.

"Oh, Duo. I didn't – even I can see how that's fucked up."

"Thanks." He sighed. "I just don't think it's going to happen, Hil. I'm not going to find someone who I want to be with and maybe – maybe that's okay. I've been fine on my own this past year."

"Fine? Duo, you're a hermit and the only social contact you have is with me, your therapist, and homeless people at the soup kitchen twice a week!"

"I work at the library too!" Duo protested.

"I said social contact. I don't _care_ that you commune with the books on Sunday afternoons."

Duo started to speak, but she continued over him.

"You _need_ human interaction. Maybe you're right, maybe you won't find an amazing love like Solo again anytime soon – but you WILL find someone that you want to share your life with. You're young, Duo! Twenty eight! You have so much life to live and you're so amazing. You have so much to give."

"Hilde –"

"So the next guy I set you up with will _not_ be blonde and blue eyed. And I'll screen him to make sure he doesn't kiss you below your ear, okay?"

"I don't _want to_ be set up with another guy."

"What about your homework assignment?"

"I went on the date, homework is done."

"Yeah, but – you _know_ Wufei will just make you do it again."

"Maybe not for another few months," Duo argued, dreading the possibility of enduring another night like last night, _ever_ again _._

Hilde sighed.

"Duo, I'm sorry, I've got to run, but I love you."

"I love you too, Hil," he assured her, "and I know – I know you're just trying to help."

"I am," she assured him before hanging up.

After the phone call, Duo spent a fruitless afternoon staring at his computer monitor, willing himself to write something – anything – for his book. However, both his mind and the monitor stayed frustratingly blank.

Except, of course, for the lingering guilt over yelling at the bartender. The boy's wide, hurt eyes kept flashing through Duo's mind, and he realized that he wasn't going to get anywhere until he apologized to him.

He decided to go back to the restaurant, in a few hours, and make amends.

That course of action decided, he applied himself to cleaning his apartment, a chore he hadn't really done in at least a month, when Hilde had insisted on coming over to visit him.

By the time night fell, Duo had cleaned the apartment more thoroughly than he had since Solo's death, and looking around and seeing clean, dusted furniture and bookshelves filled him with a sense of accomplishment.

When he arrived at the restaurant it was still early in the evening, but a few couples were already dining, and a two men sat at the bar.

However, the bartender was not the young man of last night, but instead a blue eyed, blonde haired girl.

He ignored the sense of defeat he felt at her presence and forced himself to go to the bar anyway.

"Hey, I was looking for the kid, the bartender, who was here last night?"

The blue eyed girl regarded him with amusement.

"Heero?"

"Heero?" Duo repeated, testing the name. "Messy dark hair? blue eyes?"

She nodded.

"Heero Yuy," she said with a sigh. "Hottest guy around."

"Right… sure, I just, is he working tonight?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"I just, I was here last night and I forgot to tip him, and I just wanted to apologize and –"

"Oh, okay." She laughed lightly. "Hot guy like him, he picks up stalkers or whatever, so – but you're old, right?"

Duo had absolutely no idea where this conversation was going, but the longer he sat here and talked to the girl the more confused and reluctant he became.

"Right," he agreed again.

"He'll be on in… half an hour?"

"Great. I'll just, wait here, at the bar?" Duo sat down on one of the stools.

"Can I get you anything while you wait?" The girl asked him.

"Sure," he started to order a scotch and soda but stopped himself. Heero was already convinced that he was a worthless drunk, should he really have a drink in front of him while he apologized? "Actually, could I just get a glass of water?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"You can charge me for it – and I'll leave you a tip. I just… don't _need_ a drink, you know?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Sure. Whatever." She filled a glass with ice and tap water before settling it in front of him.

"Thanks." He saluted her with the glass.

She shook her head, either in disgust or pity, and moved to the other side of the bar.

In truth, Duo was grateful that the girl wasn't impressed with him – he felt the same about her.

He also felt, on the whole, completely ridiculous. He was ashamed of the way he had acted last night, embarrassed by how drunk he had been, and deeply regretful that he had spurned Heero's kind gesture and his sympathy. If that was how Duo treated complete strangers, how the hell was he _ever_ going to go on a date, with anyone, ever again.

He was well on his way to working himself into sullen depression by the time Heero showed up.

The blue eyed man was dressed in fitted jeans, a tight, graphic t-shirt, battered sneakers, and had a backpack slung over one shoulder.

Duo was struck by how young and handsome the bartender looked. He had been eye catching, last night, with his uniform of a white dress shirt and black vest a stark contrast to the warmth of his features. But in his natural attire… Duo had to force himself to look away so that he wasn't caught staring.

He caught himself too late, however. Heero spotted him and came to a complete stop and scowled.

"Fuck," Duo cursed softly. _That_ look wasn't very encouraging at all.

Heero approached the bar and the girl instantly swooped in.

"Heero, this guy was waiting for you. He said he forgot to tip you last night."

"Thanks, Relena," Heero said without looking at the girl. His blue gaze was focused entirely on Duo.

"Er, yeah, thanks, Relena," Duo added with a smile at the girl.

"She's my cousin," Heero was no longer really scowling, but there was a slight frown creasing his eyebrows.

"Only by marriage," Relena jumped in. "Completely unrelated – by blood."

Duo blinked.

"Right…"

"So it's not, you know, we're not _really_ cousins," she clarified.

"I'll change and take over for you in a few minutes," Heero said to her in what Duo thought was a clear dismissal.

She continued to linger, however, and Heero turned away with a sigh and sat down on the bar stool beside Duo's.

"Hi," Duo said.

"Hello," Heero replied, a little warily.

"I wanted to apologize, about last night," he watched as Relena started to move away to the other customers and couldn't help but sigh when she finally took another customers order. "Sorry, she's just –"

"Weird, annoying, overly possessive?" Heero supplied.

"Yeah, I think those are fair adjectives."

Heero smirked.

"You don't have to apologize. And you didn't forget to tip me - you did. Really well."

"I know, I just – I wanted to apologize about basically snapping your head off when all you were trying to do was be nice to a drunk, pathetic old man."

"I don't think you're pathetic, and you really aren't that old," Heero assured him.

"In any case, I shouldn't have done that. You were really nice – to walk me home – and I was a complete jerk. I was rude and it's unforgivable. But –"

"Take me out," Heero interrupted.

"What?"

Heero's cheeks flushed.

"If you feel that badly about it, you can make it up to me."

"By –taking you out?" Duo repeated, not sure he understood what the younger man was saying.

"Coffee, tomorrow afternoon." Heero was still blushing and Duo found himself fascinated by the spots of bright color on his skin.

Duo frowned.

"Are you… asking me out?" Duo asked, incredulous.

"The idea was for you to ask _me_ out," Heero said, a fair amount of frustration in his voice.

"On a _date_?"

Heero stood with a groan.

"You don't have to. I – I'm sorry. I thought – never mind."

"Wait," Duo caught Heero's wrist and then dropped it as soon as he turned. He had no idea _why_ he cared, but he didn't want the boy to be embarrassed. "I like coffee," Duo said.

Heero frowned.

"And there's a nice place, over by the park, that Italian café?"

Heero nodded slowly.

"You said the afternoon – how about two-thirty?"

"You don't –"

"No, no. You're right. I behaved horribly. The least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee and… if you can avoid the desire to lecture me, you're not bad conversation." Duo smiled, trying to make it clear that he was joking.

Heero shifted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and Duo wanted to grimace. He didn't really need a reminder of just how young Heero was.

"Okay," Heero agreed after a moment. "I'll see you there, at two-thirty." He grinned slightly, and it was so adorably shy that Duo had to smile back. "But I've got to get to work now."

"Great, great. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."

Heero nodded again and then walked away, glancing back over his shoulder once before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Duo shook his head. What the _hell_ was he thinking?

He stood up and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a five dollar bill and left it on the bar counter.

"You forgot to tip him," Relena's snide voice stopped him as he started to leave.

He turned back.

"I'm sorry?"

"You forgot to tip him. Again." She arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, damn. I'll just – well, I'll just have to come back another time, I guess, because I have to run."

Her blue gaze narrowed.

"It _sounds_ like you're just making excuses to see him again."

Duo frowned.

"No, I just – you know what, here? Will you give this to him?" Duo pulled out a twenty and put it on the bar as well. "You're right. I should just settle that tab now."

"Good choice." She picked up both bills and kept a steady eye on him as he left the restaurant.

* * *

If anything, Duo was _more_ nervous about meeting Heero for coffee than he had been about his date with Zechs. He tried to console himself with the knowledge that, after the way they had met, it wasn't as if things could go _that_ far downhill. Duo had pretty much already dug himself the deepest hole possible.

Not to mention – it wasn't, in Duo's mind, a real date. Heero was a kid – a nice kid, and yes, Duo could admit, good looking, charming, thoughtful, and witty – and Duo was seven years older and had enough emotional baggage to fill a minivan. It was _not_ a date.

That was his mantra as he walked to the coffee shop and he repeated it to himself even as he smoothed the shawl collar of his gray sweater for the third time. It was _not_ a date.

When he arrived at the coffee shop, Heero was already waiting for him by the front entrance, and he looked charmingly collegiate. He was wearing the same battered sneakers from last night, paired with jeans and a white and gray striped button up shirt, untucked under a blue v-neck sweater. He looked _very_ young _,_ and Duo, in his stylish and _very_ mature sweater, felt like a lecherous old man.

"Hey," Heero greeted him with a smile.

Duo felt himself returning the smile without conscious effort.

"You look good," Duo told him and then wanted to bite his own tongue. This was _not_ a date.

But Heero smirked.

"So do you," he said.

"Shall we?" Duo asked and nodded towards the door of the coffee shop.

"Yeah." Heero started forward, but Duo reached out and opened the door for him. Heero looked equally amused and touched by the gesture.

"They've got really good desserts here, too," Duo said as they walked over to the service counter.

"Okay," Heero said. He bit the inside corner of his lip as he surveyed the menu, and Duo was instantly fixated on the way it made the rest of his lower lip seem plumper.

He had to shake himself when the barista asked him for his order.

"Sorry, a café american and a slice of the brownie cheesecake." He turned to Heero. "What do you want?"

"Ah, just a small coffee."

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"That's it?"

Heero nodded.

"Okay… and a small house coffee."

"It'll be right out," the barista told Duo as she handed him back his change.

"Thanks." He looked around the coffee shop and noticed that a booth near the back was empty. He jerked his head in that direction. "Over there okay?" he asked Heero. The younger man nodded and followed Duo over to the booth.

They sat down on opposite sides and Duo smiled at Heero, unsure what to say to him.

"So, I don't even know your name," Heero said after an awkward silence.

Duo blinked and realized that he hadn't ever told the bartender his name.

"Duo, Duo Maxwell." He held out his hand with a smirk. "It's nice to meet you, Heero Yuy."

Heero shook Duo's hand, one corner of his mouth tugging upward.

"So, what do you study?" Duo asked him.

"Math. I want to teach."

"You want to teach _math_? That's like saying you _want to_ torture kittens."

Heero glared.

"It is not."

Duo shook his head. "Sure it is. Or maybe it's like saying _you_ like to be tortured. Math? Really?"

"What's wrong with math?" Heero demanded.

"Nothing, I guess, if you _like_ torturing kittens."

"Math is _not_ that bad," Heero insisted. "And human interaction revolves around it. Take the Golden Ratio. Legal codes since Hammurabi have used it as a foundation for justice. Not only that, those mathematical proportions govern the architecture of some of the world's most famous buildings, our music scale is built on it - books during the Enlightenment were published to fit that size, the very branching of our arteries into capillaries follows it." Heero took in the slightly awed look on Duo's face. "Maybe if there were more math teachers like _me_ out there, you wouldn't think it was so painful."

"Like you're going to be," Duo couldn't help but correct, despite the fact that Heero's speech had truly impressed him. He made a mental note to research the Golden Ratio more.

"Yeah," he agreed with a shrug. "What did you study?"

"Creative writing."

"Because _that_ is a field with a lot of job security," Heero pointed out.

Duo smirked at the snark in the young man's voice. Maybe he shouldn't have started out by attacking his choice of major, but it certainly got him passionately engaged in the conversation.

"True, but it's what I love."

"So you're a writer?"

"Yeah, I guess, I am now." It _still_ felt strange to identify himself as that. But, after years of telling people that he volunteered instead of worked for a living, it was actually nice to feel accomplished.

"What do you write?"

"Fiction. Horror. Dark things. I've got a book deal – I'm _supposed to_ have the thing done by next fall."

"Wow." Heero actually looked impressed, and Duo allowed himself a moment of pride.

The barista came over and deposited their drinks and Duo's cheesecake. She very thoughtfully left two forks.

Duo nudged one in Heero's direction.

"It's good, I promise."

"I don't actually eat a lot of sweet things," Heero demurred.

Duo arched an eyebrow at him.

"My dad – he was a dentist – so I've never really eaten sweets."

Duo nodded. It didn't take a genius to guess that Heero had a _lot_ of issues with his father – not after what he had said to Duo two nights ago. The faint, angry scowl he wore was equally informative.

"Still, since you made me ask you out on this date," Duo tried to joke, "you have to try it."

Heero sighed, but picked up his fork and sliced off an almost microscopically small bite.

Duo watched as he ate it, and then almost choked on his own bite as Heero licked his lips.

"That is good," Heero said cautiously.

Duo nudged the plate closer to him, and Heero needed no other convincing.

"I really am sorry about the other night," Duo said as he watched Heero very nearly demolish the cheesecake. He managed to steal a few bites of it, but he felt incredibly satisfied every time Heero took another bite.

"You clearly had a rough night," Heero said with a shrug. He frowned. "I'm not saying that I want you to yell at me again, just that… I understand."

Duo nodded thoughtfully. He was temporarily distracted from the sight of Heero eating the cheesecake by the television in the front of the café, set on ESPN. They were running a feature about Terry Francona getting fired from the Red Sox.

"Damned shame," he muttered, more to himself than Heero.

"You like baseball?" Heero asked, and Duo didn't miss the hopeful note in his voice.

"Love it. I grew up in Florida and when I was a kid, my Dad used to take me to the Red Sox spring training games."

"I was raised a Mariners fan," Heero admitted with a self-deprecating shrug. "I'm from Seattle."

"What made you choose a college so far from home?" Duo asked.

"Exactly that. It was the geographically farthest from home that my father would allow me to attend. Because my uncle lives here." Heero wasn't quite able to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Duo nodded. Definite father issues.

"So, which school do you go to?" He asked.

"Tufts," Heero said.

"And you like it?"

"Yeah – I don't have much time left. I graduate in May."

Duo nodded.

"You want to teach – any plans for graduate school?"

"Yes, but I don't know," Heero shook his head and sighed, "I don't know if I'll stay here or go back to Seattle."

"Do you like it here?"

"Yeah, I do. Not just because it isn't home. I like that it's small, but not… that small. And Boston is just down the road."

Duo nodded. He also like that part of living in Medford.

"Me too. I'm not a big fan of the snow, though," he confessed.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Five years."

"Why didn't you move? After your fiancé died? If you don't like it?"

Duo shrugged.

"It's my home, now. And I do like it. Just not as much in January as I do in September, or now, for that matter. I love it here in October."

Duo abruptly realized that he and Heero were carrying on an incredibly mundane discussion, and that Solo had been brought up several times and he had _not_ become fixated on memories of him. As unexciting as their topic of conversation might be, Duo was more relaxed and comfortable talking to Heero, a near stranger with next to nothing in common with him, than he had been talking to _anyone_ in the last year.

"The park is always nice, this time of year, with the leaves changing," Heero agreed.

Duo didn't know if that was a hint or not, but since both men were finished with the cheesecake and their drinks, he decided to risk it.

"Feel like going for a walk?" He suggested.

Heero smiled slightly.

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

Duo set a fairly sedate pace, and Heero fell into step beside him close enough that their shoulders occasionally bumped together.

"The Red Sox pitching staff is a disaster," Heero said after a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence.

Duo turned to him in dismay.

"What are you talking about?" He launched into a detailed and lengthy diatribe about just how _amazing_ the Red Sox pitching staff was. Heero jumped in to argue against him frequently, and it wasn't long before their discussion reached a loud enough volume that the afternoon joggers started to give them a wide berth as they passed by.

"No, I actually agree," Heero said, once Duo had wound down to a final, mildly affronted protest. "I just wanted to see how you'd react."

Duo frowned.

"And did I meet your expectations?" he asked, a little annoyed.

"Exceeded them," Heero assured him but then looked momentarily uneasy. He stopped walking, and Duo, with a frown, followed suit.

"What is it?" He asked the younger man.

"Nothing. I just – enjoy talking to you. On Thursday night, when you left the bar to join your date, I was actually really disappointed. And even – I don't know, I mean it's not like I really walk every drunk guy home. I just wanted the chance to talk to you more."

"We're talking now, right?" Duo suggested.

"Yeah, but – I don't know what I'm doing."

Duo waited for him to clarify that statement.

"I've never actually, you know, dated another guy before."

"This doesn't – it's not a date, you know. We're just hanging out." Duo wondered if Heero was perhaps going through some exploratory, college phase and trying to decide if he wanted to _try_ being gay. That was definitely not an experiment Duo wanted to take part in.

"No, I want – why do you keep insisting it isn't a date?" Heero asked with a frown.

"Because you're seven years younger than I am! You're in college and you're, I'm sorry because this might offend you, but you're an innocent kid! Christ, just looking at you makes me feel like a dirty old man." Duo ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Why do you feel like a dirty old man?"

"Because I _am_. I shouldn't be this attracted to you – I don't know you and you're –"

"Don't call me a kid again. I'm twenty-one. Yes, you're seven years older than I am, but I am _not_ a kid. And I'm not innocent. I said I'd never dated another man, I didn't say I'd never been with one."

"Oh." That distinction, for some reason, did not fill Duo with relief.

"I'm not innocent," Heero repeated, his brows drawn together in a scowl. Duo couldn't tell if he was directing his irritation at HIM or at himself.

Duo shook his head.

"Look, I'm barely hanging on here – my life is a train wreck. And yeah, you aren't innocent, you aren't a kid, but I –"

Halfway through Duo's speech Heero stopped him. By kissing him.

It wasn't the most elegant kiss Duo had ever experienced, mostly due to the fact that his mouth was open midsentence and Heero's was closed, but that didn't stop the tingle of excitement that rushed over Duo's nerve endings.

Old reflexes kicked in, and he cradled Heero's jaw between his hands and tried to coax the other man's mouth open.

The taste of chocolate and coffee on Heero's breath made Duo groan, and when the younger man's tongue twined with his own, Duo felt a jolt of desire so strong it made his own breath catch.

Duo slowly eased away from Heero, but the look in his blue eyes made it hard to not simply kiss him again. He looked slightly dazed, and his cheeks were once again flushed.

He stepped back, putting space between them, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The dazed look left Heero's face and he smirked.

"You were saying?"

Duo's jaw dropped and then he started to laugh. After a moment, Heero joined him, and his deep, rich chuckle was definitely a sound that Duo wanted to hear again.

"Okay, fine. You win." Duo shook his head. "I… yeah. Damn, that was a really good kiss."

Heero brushed his bangs out of his eyes and nodded in agreement.

"I'd like to do it again," Heero said.

"Hell, so would I. Just, not in the park," Duo said when Heero stepped closer. "I'm not a huge fan of making out in public."

Heero's lips quirked upwards.

"We could go back to your place, then," he suggested.

The suggestion sent Duo's heart into overdrive.

"Ah, no. Not – look, we still don't know each other that well. And I don't have the best track record with – my point is, why don't I take you out again next week?"

Heero shrugged. "Sure. I'm off Tuesday night."

"Great. I'll call you?"

"You're old and forgetful, why don't I call you?" Heero suggested.

"God, _such_ a turn on to be called an old man," Duo muttered and Heero smirked.

Duo pulled out his phone, and they traded numbers.

"Okay. Well. This was nice."

Heero nodded in agreement.

"I'll see you next week." Duo said.

"I'll call you," Heero promised and they started to walk in opposite directions.

Duo couldn't help but look back over his shoulder at the young man, and he shook his head when he noticed Heero triumphantly pump his fist in the air.

He turned his attention back to the front, and barely avoided collided with a female jogger.

"Sorry," he said as he stepped out of her path.

Her blonde ponytail almost whipped him in the face as she turned to glare at him behind tinted sunglasses. She looked vaguely familiar, but she had turned and was jogging off in the other direction before he could place her.

Duo was back home in his apartment before the enormity of the day hit him.

He had gone on a date, he hadn't freaked out, he hadn't wallowed in misery and memories of Solo. He had kissed another man. Who wasn't Solo. And he had…liked it. A lot.

Feelings of hope and despair warred within him. He really _liked_ Heero, liked that he could talk to him and not focus so much on the past. But Duo knew himself, and he knew that, sooner or later – sooner, really – this would all go to hell in a hand basket.

* * *

_The boy whimpered against the gag, and his feet kicked out helplessly, inches off the ground and completely unable to reach anything._

_Standing back, he was able to admire the long, lean lines of the boy's body as he hung suspended, stretched out in all of his naked glory. He was too thin, and his ribs were unpleasantly prominent. But his eyes, so wide and filled with fear, made up for that._

_He had learned the necessity of gagging them early on – men, especially younger ones, could scream rather loudly in the throes of agony. And he didn't want to risk an interruption to his game._

_He looked away from the boy for a moment and pulled up the latest blog entry on his laptop._ A Very Dark Corner _. Such a delightfully twisted name for such a delightfully twisted mind. He took a moment to admire the thumbnail photo of the writer, and then shook himself as he started to smile at it. Now was not the time. He had a guest, eagerly awaiting his affection. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted._

_He was pleased that the blog had been updated again – the previous entry, the girl who couldn't guess his favorite color, had been depressingly short. This latest however, was wonderfully long and full of the details that he loved, and filled with that chill air of excitement and lust that made his blood sing._

_He read over it again, quickly, regretfully unable to savor the details, and then he readied his tools._

_He hefted the ice pick and then walked back over to the boy._

_Debating whether to try it with his left hand, he tossed the tool back and forth between them. HE was right handed, but it had been written for a lefty… well, it wouldn't be the most elegant thing he had ever done, but at least it would be accurate._

_As he set to work the boy howled in protest, and hot tears streamed down his face. He always liked that part, loved the glow of the light on damp skin and the reflection of fear through tear clotted eye lashes._

_It took longer than he anticipated, and was a_ lot _more effort. Still, he was pleasantly surprised with the results. He never would have thought to use an ice pick in such a creative fashion._

_He saluted the laptop and the small photo of the smiling, braided man with devilish, violet eyes with the ice pick before he started to tidy up his work area._

That _had been fun. He felt the flush of anticipation flow through him, but he forced himself to calm down and set the emotions aside. Waiting would make it better._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Chapter 3**

* * *

Warnings: Language, violence, angst…major angst (probably a bit more than my usual. Okay, a LOT more than my usual), sex… yaoi sex, that is.

A/N: This fic evolved as a friendly challenge with Emilinia-sama. The original premise: Duo is an up and coming writer whose work is being used by a copy-cat serial killer; and on a MAYBE unrelated note he falls for a much younger Heero. She also suggested it be light and fluffy… but, well… yeah.

A/N #2: As always, a very special thanks to the fabulous Cuzosu!

**A Very Dark Corner**

Chapter Three

Tuesday mornings often filled Duo with dread, but it had been months since he had felt _this_ reluctant to attend a therapy session.

Even though he had fulfilled his homework assignment – twice, in fact – he knew that Wufei wouldn't be thrilled that Duo was dating a much younger man. _He_ wasn't thrilled about it.

When Heero had called him last night to confirm their date for tonight, Duo had been determined to cancel it, but the fact that the very _sound_ of the young man's voice made him smile had him hesitating. Wufei had, after all, suggested that he try something casual. Something light. Surely dating a college student qualified.

After writing his blog entry for the morning, Duo took a leisurely shower and then spent half an hour trying to decide what to wear. He wasn't quite sure how, but Wufei always managed to read into his choice of clothing and use it to divine his inner thoughts. Duo didn't want to provide the Chinese man with any extra ammunition.

He eventually settled on a gray button up denim shirt, dark jeans, and a navy cardigan. He paired it with brown loafers and hoped that Wufei would assume that the casual yet conservative attire meant that Duo was feeling… casual yet conservative.

Duo knew it was ridiculous to try to outmaneuver Wufei in this game, but he gave himself points for effort.

When he arrived at Wufei's office on time he was greeted with surprise by the therapist.

"You're on time."

Duo smirked.

"You told me to be."

"I tell you to do a _lot_ of things," Wufei muttered, "that doesn't mean that you ever do." He looked over Duo's attire and arched an eyebrow before ushering him inside.

Duo sank into his usual chair and sighed.

"What?" he demanded.

"I didn't say anything – not even 'hm'," Wufei pointed out.

"Yeah, but you arched an eyebrow at my clothes. And you always judge my mood by my clothes. So… out with it."

Wufei shrugged.

"I just haven't seen you put this much conscious thought into your clothing since the session after your anniversary. And before that it was Solo's birthday, and before that… the first session we had together."

"You remember what I've worn for the past eight months?"

"Not in great detail. But I do remember those days sticking out. Although today is… different. Less like armor and more like merely a shield. You aren't ready to battle me over talking, but you _are_ scared of telling me something."

Duo scowled.

"Seriously. It's just clothes. You shouldn't be able to tell that much by what I'm wearing."

Wufei smirked.

"Lucky for you that I can, however. Now, did you complete your homework assignment?"

"Yes – I even went for extra credit."

Wufei arched an eyebrow.

"I went on a date last Thursday night. My friend, Hilde, set me up with one of her co-workers… who, it just so happens, is pretty much a clone of Solo."

"How so?"

"Uh, well, he looks exactly like him. Even has a few of the same mannerisms." Duo rubbed at the spot under his ear where Zechs had kissed him, still unnerved by the gesture.

"And?" Wufei prompted.

"And it was the worst night of my life in months. Christ it was like looking at a damn ghost and – and, well, I made a mess of it. I was pretty drunk before he even arrived for the date – and save the lecture, I know, I know, I shouldn't use alcohol to escape dealing with my emotions or whatever – and then _after_ the date, well, non date. I told him we should just eat in silence because I honestly couldn't stand the thought of talking to this guy who looks just like Solo but clearly isn't Solo, in any way. And after I kind of… lost it. Yelled at the bartender, who turned out to be a good guy and walked me home… and then we went out on a date Saturday and we've got another date scheduled for tonight."

Wufei blinked.

"You and –"

"The bartender. Not Zechs. Hopefully I never see _him_ again."

"I see." Wufei shifted in his seat, clearly at a momentary loss. "So, this bartender –"

"Heero. He's, well, fuck it. He's twenty one. He's a college student at Tufts who wants to be a _math_ teacher. And he kissed me. So… yeah."

"What, exactly, were you afraid of telling me?" Wufei asked, a slight frown on his face. "The part about the Solo clone or about Heero?"

"Well, mostly the part about Heero. I feel like a pervy old man as it is, and I didn't want _you_ to judge me too."

"Duo, I'm not here to judge you. I hope I've never given you the impression that I _do_."

"No, you've been pretty amazing about _not_ judging me – except for the staying in bed for a week thing, _that_ you were pretty judgmental about. Which is only fair. But – I mean, he's practically a minor!"

Wufei looked amused.

"I'm glad he's a math major, you could clearly use some tutoring if you think that twenty one and seventeen are that close."

"But I'm seven years older than him!"

"Solo was older than you," Wufei pointed out. "And you met him in college."

"Yeah, but he was only four years older than me, that's nothing."

"Seven years is _not_ that much of a difference."

"Okay, so maybe it's less to do with age and more to do with… everything. Experience – that's what separates us."

"Experience? You're afraid to get involved with him because he's a virgin?"

"No, he's not. And that's not what I meant. I mean _life_ experience. He's a kid – and while he clearly has some issues with his father, he's still… bright and shiny, you know? And I'm… not."

"How is that a bad thing? You are very clearly more experienced, but you are also clearly drawn to him. Perhaps you _need_ bright and shiny."

"Me and bright and shiny don't go well together. I only deal with dark and twisty and he doesn't need _that_ in his life. He's a good kid."

"By thinking of him as a 'kid' you allow yourself to put distance between the two of you, but you are also cutting yourself off from the possibility of finding common ground with him and perhaps creating a relationship. You said you went on a date with him? What did you do?"

Duo sighed.

"We got coffee and walked around the park. It was… nice. Really nice. We talked about baseball – and math… and the weather. It was… really nice," he repeated.

"And you have plans for tonight?"

"Yeah." Duo sighed again. "You know how they show horror films in the park every night in October? Well, tonight they're showing The Mummy – the original, not that campy adventure one from a few years ago – and we're going to have kind of a picnic." When Duo had proposed the idea to Heero he had felt it was ridiculously romantic – horror film component aside – and had been surprised when Heero had immediately embraced the idea.

"Is that something you used to do with Solo?"

"No. Well, once or twice. He never really cared for horror films. Hilde and I used to go pretty often, but most times I'd go on my own. I haven't been this year, yet… I just haven't really felt like it."

"I can appreciate how challenging it is to include someone new in a personal tradition," Wufei said.

"No kidding," Duo muttered.

"You seemed a bit disconcerted by the fact that Heero kissed you," Wufei said after letting Duo sit in silence for a moment.

"Well, yeah. I mean – it wasn't so much that he kissed me. It just felt… really fucking great."

"And that bothers you."

"Shouldn't it?"

"You tell me," Wufei countered.

Duo groaned.

"It should, right? That I kiss a stranger and it feels amazing when… I mean, he's only like the fourth guy I've ever kissed. So…"

"You're afraid of _your_ lack of experience," Wufei concluded, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"What? No, I'm –"

"Yes, you are. By your own admission, you've only been with three men – Solo, your one night stand, and…?"

"Hunter Davis," Duo supplied with a sigh. "I met him when I was a freshman in college. He was my first kiss, my first… pretty much first everything."

"And what happened with him?"

"Nothing tragic – huh. Probably the _only_ person I cared about who hasn't died yet."

"Except for Hilde, and me," Wufei pointed out.

Duo smirked.

"Yeah, except for you two also."

"So what happened with Hunter?"

"I dumped him for Solo," Duo confessed with a wince. "My senior year I had to take a social science course to complete my Gen Ed requirements and Solo was in the third year of his doctorate and he was the instructor for my Intro to Sociology course."

"He was your teacher?" Wufei arched an eyebrow.

"Hey, remember that no judging thing we talked about?" Duo reminded him.

"I wasn't judging _you_ ," Wufei pointed out.

"Well you shouldn't judge a dead guy either. Especially considering the fact that I'm irresistible."

"Hm." Wufei folded his hands in his lap. "Now that we've taken that diversion from the main issue, let's return to the fact that you don't know how to date. You've had two relationships – one that lasted three years and the other seven years – so you're scared that Heero's expectations are going to be rather high, what with your experience and dark and twisty nature."

Duo started to protest but gave in with a sigh.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"Good."

"Good? How is that good?"

"It means that you care, and that was the entire point of my assignment for you. I want you to be active in your own life, not to be passively participating in it. And this new relationship – well, it's good for you. It might just be casual, or maybe it will grow into something more, but either way, it's good. And it's good that you're scared."

"Are you _sure_ that you don't want to tell me this is a bad idea and that I should be looking for someone older and more stable? Don't I need someone who might understand the kinds of loss I've gone through?"

"I'm positive. Someone older and more stable wouldn't push you, and you don't need someone to take care of you. Besides, what makes you so sure your Heero can't understand the kinds of loss you've gone through? He might not have a similar past to yours, but he clearly doesn't lack empathy. Not if you drunkenly yelled at him and he still kissed you."

"Right, but –"

"Besides, I think it would be good for you if someone needed _you_ more than you needed him."

"Who says he does? I'm the one hanging on by a thread here, when he's got his whole life ahead of him."

Wufei shrugged again.

"Perhaps, but if he didn't need you – or at least want you – why would he bother pursuing the old drunk guy who yelled at him?"

Duo scowled at Wufei.

"Well when you put it _that_ way _,"_ he grumbled, "it does sound like fate."

"You don't have to make this into anything big, Duo. Just… let it run its course and try to enjoy it. This is good for you."

"Therapeutic dating. Lovely."

"How have you felt since your date with him on Saturday? Lethargic? Pessimistic? Uninterested?"

"No, more like anxious, wired, and – oh. I see. It is therapeutic." Duo sighed. "So maybe it is good for me, okay. But that doesn't change the fact that I really do _not_ know how to do casual dating. Or the fact that we have nothing in common except for an appreciation for baseball."

"How do you know?"

"Well, he's twenty-one and I'm twenty-eight. God, he probably _likes_ the Star Wars prequels and –"

"Stop. Give him a chance. Give _this_ a chance. And if he does like the prequels… okay, that would be pretty unforgivable, but my point is that he is not Solo."

"I noticed that part," Duo snapped and then shook his head. "Wufei, what if I just start comparing him? I had seven years with Solo and –"

"And no one could hope to compete with that. Which is why this isn't a competition. The relationship you had with Solo was amazing and meant everything to you, we both know that. But you can't tell me that it started like that. The first day you met him… presumably as he handed out a syllabus, it wasn't instantly the Duo and Solo show, was it? It takes time. For anyone in any relationship. Give him a chance."

"Another homework assignment?" Duo asked.

"You don't have to thank me," Wufei said with a smirk as he stood. "I'll see you next week?"

Duo stood as well.

"And I've got your number if I need anything." He held Wufei's gaze. "You're sure this is ok? Healthy and whatever?"

"Yes. I'm not saying that this is a relationship that will progress very far – or that it should – but right now, this _is_ a good thing for you. Enjoy your date tonight."

Duo smoothed down the hem of his cardigan.

"Yeah, I'll try."

"Oh – and wear tighter jeans than those."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Stop checking out my ass, Doc."

"It's just a professional opinion."

"Can I keep the cardigan and the shirt?"

Wufei frowned slightly and then shrugged.

"They make you look your age – which I think is a good thing. He clearly doesn't find it an obstacle, and it's who you are. Embrace it."

"Okay, Obi-wan. I'll do that."

* * *

Duo followed Wufei's advice and changed into a pair of tight black jeans before packing two blankets into a backpack and heading out to Whole Foods half an hour before the start of the movie.

He grabbed a bag of barbeque chips, a few bottles of ginger ale, and filled a to-go container with chicken tenders from the hot bar. After a brief debate with himself he also picked up a walnut brownie and a pumpkin-ginger cupcake. Maybe it was wrong to keep offering Heero sweets, but the way he had savored every bite of the cheesecake made Duo decide it was worth it.

When he arrived at the park amphitheater it was already packed, but he had no trouble picking Heero out of the crowd milling around by the top steps.

The younger man was a dark green pullover, jeans, and those same battered sneakers that seemed to be attached to his feet.

Heero spotted him and smirked slightly, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in an expression that was somehow both shy and arrogant.

"Fancy seeing you here," Duo greeted him.

Heero shrugged.

"I heard this was where cute old guys liked to hang out so I thought I'd give it a try."

Duo nodded. "Looking for better prospects?"

"No, I'm pretty happy with you."

Duo was impressed by how bold and blunt Heero was. _He_ hadn't been that self-confident at twenty-one.

He smirked back at Heero.

"Good, because I'm kind of amazing. Let's grab a spot of grass before the film starts."

Duo led the way towards the highest grass tier of the amphitheater towards the far right side, his usual spot when attending movies here, and also a conveniently isolated spot.

Heero helped him spread out one of the blankets before they sat down and Duo offered the Whole Foods bag for the other man's perusal.

"Ginger ale?" Heero asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you don't drink, and I don't drink beer, so…"

Heero nodded.

"I don't care much for soda either. I do like ginger ale, though."

Heero spread the food on the blanket, and Duo caught the speculative gleam in his eyes when he placed the desserts between them.

Just as they started to eat the film flickered to life on the screen at the bottom of the amphitheater, and the level of noise fell to a hush.

"So I've never seen this movie," Heero said. He moved closer to Duo and snagged one of the chicken tenders.

"It's… really good and also pretty bad. Cheesy special effects – and if you think about the plot too much it starts to fall apart, but it's good."

Heero nodded and turned his attention to the film.

Duo's own attention was divided between the film he had seen countless times and Heero's face. The dim, silver light from the screen reflected off of his face in a way that drew Duo's eyes to his profile.

"This is actually pretty cool," Heero decided half an hour into the film. He glanced over at Duo. "It's a little distracting though, with you staring at me."

Duo felt his cheeks heat up and was grateful for the relative darkness.

"Well just think about how distracting it is for me – you sitting there and all," Duo pointed out.

Heero smirked.

"I could go sit somewhere else?" he suggested, but instead of getting up and moving away he shifted even closer, so that their thighs and shoulders touched.

"That's not somewhere else," Duo pointed out, unable to resist the urge to lean towards Heero's face. "That's practically my lap."

"I'm cold," Heero said, shrugging one shoulder. "And it's a scary movie. Sort of." He smirked when, as if on cue, the actress on the screen offered a melodramatic shriek.

Duo chuckled and shook his head. He reached into the backpack and pulled out the extra blanket and draped it across both Heero's shoulders and his own.

"Thanks," Heero said, but made no move to put space between them.

Which was fine with Duo. He enjoyed the heat and nearness of Heero's body. Despite the low burn of arousal he felt, Duo was able to turn back to the film and continue watching it.

When the closing credits finally started to roll Duo turned back to Heero.

"So, what did you think?"

"It was… really good and also really bad," Heero said, using Duo's earlier description. "Why do you like it so much?"

Duo shrugged.

"It's not that I like it _so_ much. It's not my favorite – but I like classic horror films, and David Manners – he was Frank Whemple – is definitely easy to look at. I also like that the girl more or less saves herself."

Heero nodded in agreement.

"Damsels in distress can get a bit annoying," he muttered.

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"My cousin – Relena? You met her last week. I almost missed our date tonight because she was in hysterics over something and couldn't go to work. If she breaks a nail it becomes a national tragedy and she never tries to fix her own problems. And – I'm done talking about her."

"Okay, fine by me. So are you up for dessert or…" Duo couldn't bring himself to ask if Heero had an early class the next morning.

"Dessert sounds great, but it's getting really cold."

"You already know that I only live a few blocks away, if you want to go back to my place. Or you can take yours home with you. Your choice." Duo held the cupcake and the brownie up for inspection.

"I'd rather go back to your place," Heero said.

They started to walk towards Duo's apartment in companionable silence, but Heero broke it after only a few minutes.

"So you like horror movies?"

"Yeah."

He looked over to see Heero frowning.

"Um… if you don't, it's –"

"No, I'm just trying to figure out _why_ you like them. I mean, the night I met you, you said that, well, pretty much everyone you cared about died horribly. So why would you enjoy watching horror movies?"

"I guess because I'm weird and twisted," Duo offered with a sigh. "I don't know, honestly. I always have, though. Maybe it's – maybe just watching it happen on the screen makes it seem less real, for me. It kind of numbs the reality for me, in a way."

"Is that what you write, too?"

"Yep. Though the stuff I write is a _lot_ more gruesome than The Mummy was."

"It doesn't…make you think about them?"

Duo shrugged.

"Allstate commercials make me think about my parents, and fires in general make me uncomfortable, but… no. Horror films don't make me think of them. I mean, Solo wasn't murdered by a mummy resurrected by an ancient spell, so…"

They arrived at Duo's apartment and he paused by the steps, trying to gauge Heero's mood.

"It's weird. I'm weird. I know. And no hard feelings, if you just want to –"

Heero closed the distance between them and kissed Duo.

"Sometimes you talk too much," Heero said after he pulled away.

"I'm getting that," Duo grumbled, but leaned in for another kiss.

He liked the slightly dazed, unfocused look in Heero's eyes after they kissed. While it was clear that the younger man was impulsive and confident, it was also clear that he was just as attracted to Duo as he was to him.

"So, dessert?" Duo asked.

Heero nodded and then followed him into the building and up to the second floor.

Duo opened his front door and turned on the living room light before stepping aside and ushering Heero inside.

"Welcome to Chez Maxwell," he said.

Heero stepped in and looked around. He caught sight of the wall floor to ceiling built in bookshelves on one wall of the living room and started towards them.

"You have a lot of books," Heero said.

"Yeah. Solo and I both read pretty much anything we could get our hands on, and I hate to part with books so…"

Heero smiled at him.

"My collection isn't anywhere near this impressive, or this well displayed. I love to read."

"Really? Oh, well, I guess there are page numbers for you to look at," Duo joked.

Heero rolled his eyes.

"I like more than just numbers. This is one of my favorite books." Heero tapped a finger on the spine of _Almost Like Being in Love_.

"Mine too," Duo agreed with a grin. "I like some of his other stuff too – The Last Days of Summer is really good."

Heero nodded.

"I read that first, then found this one."

"Same here," Duo gestured towards the couch. "I'm going to put on some coffee – make yourself comfortable."

Duo walked into the kitchen and put on a fresh pot of coffee. Once it was on and he made sure there were clean coffee mugs he returned to the living room.

Heero was still looking at the bookshelves, and Duo had to shake his head. Maybe they _did_ have some things in common.

"You like Bradbury," Heero said, looking over his shoulder at Duo as he approached to stand beside him.

"Yeah. He's borderline horror –and I'm a sucker for hard core science fiction."

"Which explains the Heinlein."

"Well, not really. Solo was the Heinlein fan. I always thought he was… bat shit crazy, really."

Heero laughed.

"Me too. I took this science fiction lit course last year and the prof _worshipped_ Heinlein. I don't speak up that often in class, but when he suggested that Heinlein was actually a proponent of feminism I _had_ to say something."

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"So what did you say?"

Heero looked a little embarrassed.

"I just wanted to point out that Heinlein's version of feminism revolved around using women as sexual objects and that any of them who demonstrated intelligent thought did it from a patriarchal perspective… but it turned into a ten minute speech about Heinlein's elitism, racism, sexism, and love of incest. I finished it by calling him a self-absorbed Nazi."

Duo chuckled.

"I backed up all of my statements with direct quotations." Heero's lips twitched into a smile.

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Even calling Heinlein a homophobic Nazi?"

Heero winced.

"No, that part… that's what I called the professor."

"Damn, you _do_ like to live dangerously."

"We spent an entire semester covering post-modern science fiction and not _one_ of the texts we used wasn't originally written in English, and he left off Asimov. Isaac Asimov!"

"How did you do in the class?"

"A minus," Heero grumbled.

"Not bad considering that you called the guy a _Nazi_ ," Duo pointed out.

Heero shrugged.

"It's the lowest grade I've ever gotten – which completely thrilled my Dad. He didn't want me taking such a pointless course in the first place, and that only confirmed his theory that I'm not taking my education seriously."

"Because you got _one_ A minus? And that's seriously your lowest grade?"

Heero nodded.

"Asian F," he said with a bitter twist of his lips.

"I thought that was some pop culture joke."

"Not really. But he would have been pissed no matter what grade I got in the course. He hates that I have a Lit minor instead of something like business or something useful."

"I didn't realize you were a Lit minor."

"You were too busy judging me for my obsession with torturing kittens," Heero pointed out.

"Sorry about that," Duo said.

"Kind of ironic, though, when it's _you_ who likes torture in the first place."

"It's not that I _like_ it, unless we're talking -" Duo abruptly cut himself off, realizing he did not know Heero that well, and remembering that he was practically a kid.

He shouldn't have bothered. Heero arched an eyebrow at him.

"I was going to make a joke about it, but now I've just gone and made this awkward…"

"Why didn't you just make the joke?"

"Because I don't know you that well and you're –" he cut himself off again.

Heero's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not some eighteen year old just off the bus from Iowa, Duo. I've had sex. I've seen porn."

Duo groaned. He was making such a mess of this.

"I get that. But you're still young and – okay, so you've had sex and seen porn, but the look on your face when we kiss isn't one of 'been there, done that.'" Duo shook his head. "It's the same look that you had after you tried that cheesecake in the coffee shop. It's that 'holy shit why I haven't I had this before' look."

Duo started to say more, but his coffee maker started to beep, indicating that the fresh pot was ready. He sighed.

"Do you want a cup?"

Heero nodded, the look on his face unreadable.

Duo started towards the kitchen, and after a slight hesitation Heero followed him.

He set out two mugs, the sugar jar, and took the milk out of the fridge.

He prepared his own cup of coffee and watched as Heero did the same. Maybe it was from spending so much time in therapy, but Duo could sense that Heero was trying to work out something in his head, and he wanted to give the younger man the time to say it right.

Duo leaned back against his kitchen counter and waited.

"I've always known I was gay, but growing up…" Heero scowled and rubbed one finger across his right eyebrow. "When I got to college, I thought things could be different. That I could be who I really am. My second semester, I met Nate. I thought… I _thought that_ he was like me and that he was just waiting for…"

"You?" Duo supplied. This story was starting to remind him of his college relationship with Hunter.

Heero's scowl became more pronounced, but he nodded in agreement.

"But really he was just waiting for keg parties. Every time he gets drunk enough…"

"Wait, wait. You've been with this guy for three years and –"

"I'm not _with_ him," Heero corrected angrily. "He isn't gay. At least, not when he's sober. And even when he's drunk…he hates to kiss me."

This was no longer anything like what Duo had experienced with Hunter. Things with his first college boyfriend had been far from perfect, but at least they had been in a public relationship. Duo was filled with a sudden and overwhelming anger. It wasn't _right_.

"So, you're right," Heero said after a tense silence. "Kissing you _is_ new, and amazing."

Duo put down his coffee mug and closed the distance between them. He cradled Heero's jaw in his hands.

"It's not always new, but it can actually get _more_ amazing," Duo told him.

He leaned in and kissed Heero. He kept it light until Heero started to kiss him back, and then he deepened the kiss, teasing open his lips and tasting the warmth of his mouth.

Heero's hands wrapped around his waist and pulled Duo closer.

Duo eased back enough to start kissing along Heero's jaw until he reached his earlobe. He bit down on it gently before sucking on it. Heero gave a surprised groaned, and it made Duo grin.

He felt Heero start to unbutton his shirt and stepped back.

Heero wore that slightly dazed look that Duo had described earlier, but it quickly turned to confusion when Duo eased his hands away from his shirt.

"So, I'm not twenty-one," Duo said. He took a step back, putting space between them. "And I'm… not really in to casual sex. Especially not with you."

"Why not with me?" Heero asked, a slight edge to his voice.

"It has nothing to do with you being young. I just don't think that jumping in to bed with someone is the best foundation for a relationship – and I like you. I'd like to get to know you…and _then_ jump into bed with you."

"So you want to take things slow."

"Yeah. I want to date you. If… look, if you're looking for something else –"

Heero rolled his eyes and kissed Duo, silencing him.

"Again with the talking," Heero muttered against his mouth as he pulled away with a smirk.

"And again with the kissing," Duo replied and kissed him again.

"It's getting pretty late," Heero said when they pulled away. "I have an eight A.M. class tomorrow."

"The desserts should keep for a few days if you want to take a rain check?"

"I don't have another night off until Sunday."

"Do you have any afternoons free?" Duo asked.

"I don't have any afternoon classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"So… want to stop by on Thursday?"

Heero smiled slightly, that same slightly shy yet confident look that captivated Duo.

"Yeah, that would be great. Is one okay?"

"I'll see you then."

Duo walked Heero towards the door, but stopped him just as he stepped in the hall.

"Wait, before you go – what do you think about the Star Wars prequels?"

Heero arched an eyebrow.

"What prequels?" he asked with a sneer.

"Great answer," Duo said with a laugh and kissed Heero one more time. "I'll see you on Thursday."

He watched Heero walk down the hall, amused when the younger man turned just before walking down the stairs and looked back at Duo one last time.

Maybe, Duo thought as he locked his apartment door, Wufei was right. Not that he would ever tell his therapist that.

* * *

_Two at once._

_When he had first read the blog post that morning he had laughed out loud._ Two _. It was as if Duo was offering him a personal challenge._

_Duo. He decided to start thinking about the author as more than an ethereal demon and as the man who inspired his greatest passion._

_And this… this he was determined to do right._

_It was the most difficult thing he had yet attempted. It had taken hours for him to find a freezer large enough for the two boys, and he had very nearly left them in there too long before taking them out to finish the job properly._

_Duo had been right, the sight of all of that dark, violet blood against their silver blue skin had been one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. The cold had turned their lips a dark, vibrant red, and it had been very hard not to kiss them and swallow their cries of pain._

_He hoped that Duo continued to give him such devilish creations, and that one day soon, he could inspire the young writer to new heights._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Chapter 4**

* * *

Warnings: Language, violence, angst…major angst (probably a bit more than my usual. Okay, a LOT more than my usual), sex… yaoi sex, that is.

A/N: This fic evolved as a friendly challenge with Emilinia-sama. The original premise: Duo is an up and coming writer whose work is being used by a copy-cat serial killer; and on a MAYBE unrelated note he falls for a much younger Heero. She also suggested it be light and fluffy… but, well… yeah.

A/N #2: As always, a very special thanks to the fabulous Cuzosu!

**A Very Dark Corner**

Chapter Four

_He pulled on the blue nitril gloves, enjoying the feel of the thin, protective plastic sliding over his hands and the snap of their release against his hands._

_As he approached the body he tried to keep his face impassive. It wouldn't do for his new co-workers to see his excitement. Likely they were waiting to see if he could keep down his lunch – he had heard over the radio that the corpse was in bad shape – and they would be surprised enough as it was._

_The air was crisp, a little damp, and there was a low, cool breeze that stung the side of his face in a pleasantly annoying way._

_Bad shape was_ not _the way he would have described the state of the body._

_But then, he wasn't like the other cops. He wasn't revolted by the sight of the victim's skin stretched back over itself, revealing the deep, empty chest cavity and framing it like delicate butterfly wings. The other cops couldn't appreciate the detail and effort it must have taken to lay her out like this, to get the blood spatter JUST so._

_One week on the job and already he was on the verge of losing it. He shook his head and forcefully reminded himself that he was here to solve a murder._ Not _to admire the work of a fellow artist._

* * *

It was a snippet, barely the bones behind a single scene, but it was _something_.

Duo felt like shouting in triumph as he leaned back and examined the few paragraphs that had flown from his fingers. _Finally_.

He had a main character, he had the loose details of a plot.

Last night he had stayed up until nearly four, madly scribbling on four different legal pads as he tried to organize his thoughts.

When he had started writing his blog, it had been easy enough to just post a gruesome scene when it came to him, but this book wasn't a collection of gruesome deaths. It needed a narrative, and it needed characters aside from a faceless murderer and countless victims. It needed a hero.

And he finally had one.

Duo took a large gulp of coffee and started to type again, feeling adrenaline and anticipation strum through him as he continued to write the scene, to introduce his character, and to think of the world he would inhabit.

He was ten pages in when he noticed the time and swore. He was going to be late, again.

With a sigh, he saved his work and shut down his computer before finishing off his coffee and pulling on a sweater.

The weather had finally started to change, and he had pulled on a pair of jeans that morning after getting out of bed, so he stepped into his loafers, ran a hand through his hair, and decided he was presentable enough for Wufei.

"Late, _again_ ," Wufei said when he opened the door to his office fifteen minutes later.

"I was writing," Duo said and took his normal chair. "For my book. I _finally_ know what I want to do and the words were just flowing – you're lucky I didn't just stay there and keep writing."

Wufei arched an eyebrow as he sat down opposite Duo.

"Yes, well, _thank_ you for deciding to keep your appointment."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"It was a joke. But – come on! This is big! I'm finally able to concentrate on this."

"I agree, and I am very happy. Why do you think you were able to finally have a break through?"

Duo couldn't help but grin as he thought back to last night.

"I was talking to Heero last night on the phone. We got into this huge argument about morality – about if the world were black and white or just shades of grey. It was… fun."

Duo hadn't argued that intensely with anyone since Solo had died – or his first sessions with Wufei, but those had been far from pleasant – and he had felt so _alive_ after finally hanging up the phone at one A.M.

"It wasn't even the conversation – it was just thinking, arguing… God, it felt good."

"So things are progressing well with Heero."

"If by well you mean that –"

"Duo."

He rolled his eyes again.

"Yes. Very well."

"How many dates have you been on, now?"

He mentally counted.

"Seven?"

"And?"

"And… date number eight is scheduled for tonight?" He honestly didn't know what Wufei was fishing for.

"Have you found yourself thinking about Solo? Or comparing the two?"

"It's weird, but no. They're really different, and the relationship – I don't know, the dynamics are different. We – okay, there was this one thing. He came over on Saturday and we watched Dr. Strangelove, because the poor guy had never seen it, and I got up to get a drink and – I don't know. I guess I've never really sat on a couch and watched a movie with someone who w _asn't_ Solo. But I used to – both of us used to – whenever we'd get up we'd kind of, just lean over, kiss the other one, and then ask if they wanted anything. It was just something we did. And Saturday I did it, it just… happened."

"It upset you."

"Yeah. One minute I'm smiling at the sound of Heero laughing and wanting a glass of water and the next –" he swallowed hard.

Every once in a while something would happen that would remind him so keenly of Solo that it would literally stop his heartbeat for a moment, freezing him in place until he was able to remember that Solo was dead and that he was alone.

Saturday, leaning over to kiss Heero even as he stood up, had been one of those moments. The moment his lips touched Heero's it had felt so incredibly wrong and alien that Duo had pulled away and had to lock himself in the bathroom for ten minutes to calm down enough to be able to even look at Heero again.

"Talk to me," Wufei softly prompted him.

"I almost had a fucking panic attack. God, it felt – it was like my body remembered _exactly_ how it felt to do that, to lean over and kiss Solo and Heero is _not_ Solo."

"No, he isn't."

"And that's – that's f _ine_. We've been dating for what, two and a half weeks now? And I like him. I _like_ all the ways that he isn't Solo. Which is wrong, isn't it?"

"Why?"

"I _loved_ Solo, and now I'm going after someone who isn't anything like him. It's like I'm trying to erase him, isn't it?"

"Heero is _nothing_ like Solo?"

"They don't look the same – Heero doesn't drink. Heero _hates_ Heinlein and is on the fence about McDivett. Heero thinks Top Gun is amazing, he hates Platoon. He –"

"Duo. These are things. These are small and yes, they matter. But in the big ways – does he laugh at your jokes? Is he kind? You've told me countless times that Solo was the most generous person you had ever met, that he would risk _anything_ just to help someone else, even a stranger. To me, that sounds like your Heero. Someone would _have_ to be kind and generous to go out with you after you'd drunkenly shouted at them. I'm not saying that he should be a replica of Solo. But in the big ways, they are alike. You aren't turning your back on the memory of Solo just because you're dating a man with different taste in movies and books."

Duo sighed. He could see the truth in Wufei's words, but there was no denying the fact that the more time he spent with Heero, the less time he spent thinking about Solo. He _knew_ , on some level, that that was good. But a huge part of him still saw it as a betrayal.

"What happened?" Wufei asked.

"Huh?"

"After your almost panic attack? What happened?"

"I came out of the bathroom – I kind of ran away and hid in there until I could get myself back together – and Heero… kind of jumped me."

Wufei arched an eyebrow.

"We fooled around for a while, which went a long way to making me not think about Solo for a while."

"So you've had sex."

"No."

"Then what – define 'fooling around'," Wufei said with a frown.

Duo arched an eyebrow at Wufei, mirroring the gesture that the therapist so often used on him.

"I thought you were a _psycho_ therapist, not a sex therapist."

Wufei rolled his eyes.

"I'm not asking for details. And if you need a reference to someone who can discuss your _performance_ then I would be happy to give you one. But, as we've already discussed, sex seems to be something of an issue for you, and I feel that discussing it – in a broad, open context – is necessary to progress in your treatment."

"Making out. Mutual masturbation."

Things had progressed _very_ quickly when Duo walked out of the bathroom to find Heero waiting for him, arms crossed, a frown wrinkling his brow. Without saying a word, however, Heero had closed the difference between them and kissed him, not even giving Duo a chance to speak or react.

In a matter of minutes they were on Duo's bed, still dressed, reaching into each other's jeans and stroking each other's erections.

Duo hadn't planned on taking things even _that_ far with Heero yet, despite the fact that the younger man demonstrated his own desire to progress their physical relationship.

But afterwards, as they lay on his bed and caught their breath, Duo couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Yes, it had been hurried, and been entirely without foreplay, but it had still felt incredible. He hadn't had someone else touch him in nearly a year, and there was no denying that Heero's hand working his erection had brought Duo to the most intense orgasm he had had since Solo's death.

" _Why_ haven't you had sex yet?"

"Um…"

"Duo, I won't pretend to be an expert on homosexual relationships, but my general understanding is that, without the risk of pregnancy that heterosexual relationships face, homosexual, physical relationships progress at a significantly faster pace. Sex isn't seen as the same sort of commitment that heterosexual relationships require it to be. Seven dates is a very long time to have gone _without_ you having sex."

Duo snorted. He was reminded of having this same argument with Solo, when they had first started dating. Solo didn't understand why Duo hadn't wanted to jump into bed with him right away, and Duo knew that while Solo had shrugged his shoulders and been willing to wait for Duo to be ready, he had never really understood WHY he hadn't been willing to immediately begin a physical relationship.

"I wouldn't push this, Duo, but I honestly feel that your view of sex is something we should discuss."

"That and you like to torture me," Duo muttered.

"Well, yes, there is that too."

Wufei sat in silence, waiting for Duo to speak. It was a tactic the therapist had developed early on, after he realized that by engaging Duo in argument's only allowed him to avoid a topic and move onto something safer. But silence, more than anything else, usually drove Duo to speaking.

Eventually, Duo sighed and gave in.

"It took two months before Hunter and I had… only ten days with Solo, because he pretty much gave me an ultimatum. So, yeah, I guess I'm not like every other gay man on the planet. I don't feel comfortable just jumping into bed with a guy. It's great that I don't have to worry about getting another guy pregnant, sure. But… look, when you have sex, _typically_ – not always I know – you're naked. Completely exposed. Totally vulnerable. That's scary shit, okay? And it just – it's not like I ever felt intimidated by Hunter or Solo, I just… needed to trust them. And maybe, I don't know, maybe it's because I was raised by a failed nun and a priest – but I think sex is more than just two bodies rubbing together in a mutually satisfactory way. Humans have a profound capacity to experience pleasure and I don't think it's something we should just – we aren't Bonobos, right? Sex means something. It's more than just ejaculation – it's… the chance to, I don't know, rise above this mortal coil and experience the divine, ok?"

It was hard for Duo to look at Wufei, to wait for his judgment, but he forced himself to hold his gaze.

"Did you ever tell Hunter, or Solo, that that was how you felt about sex?"

"No, are you crazy? I know how pathetic that sounded."

"Pathetic isn't the way I would describe it."

"Because you're paid to help me recover, not to send me off the deep end."

"Duo, I'm serious. What you described isn't pathetic. Not to mention – it's how you genuinely feel. You have no cause to be ashamed for how you _feel_ and certainly not when your feelings are that profound."

"I… thanks? I guess?"

"Do you trust Heero? Are you comfortable being that vulnerable with him?"

"I – yeah. I mean, I've already yelled at him, told him about everyone I love dying, so he knows I'm pretty damaged and he's never… he's seriously never really judged me for it, you know?"

"And your fooling around on Saturday? Your… mutual masturbation – did it feel like more than physical release?"

Duo was amused that even Wufei's ears went red when he said mutual masturbation, but he decided not to tease him about it.

"It _was_ physical release, though. It felt incredible, mind you, but that really was – no, that's not true. It was more than that. It was more than _that night._ God, the look on Heero's face…"

Duo had thought that Heero looked enraptured when he tried chocolate or after kissing him, but the look on his face after he came in Duo's hand had been beyond that.

"So he might understand you, then," Wufei interrupted his thoughts.

"Maybe." Although, the more Duo thought about it, the more Wufei seemed right. Heero didn't strike Duo as vapid or flippant, and based on their discussions Heero seemed to view the world from a very unique perspective. On the other hand, he was twenty one and had been pushing for sex since their second date.

"Have you told Hilde? About your being involved with someone?"

"Ah… no."

"Why not?"

"Honestly? Because I'm dating a twenty-one year old college student and she just tried to set me up with her friend, who, like her, is an assistant DA."

"You don't think she will approve."

"No. I mean, she'll love making cabana boy jokes about him for as long as he lasts, but no. I don't think she will approve."

"She won't approve of the fact that you are moving on? Trying to make a new life for yourself? That you've found someone who makes you laugh and, beyond all logical explanation, actually likes you?"

"Seriously, don't keep feeding my ego too much – it's not healthy."

"Duo."

He sighed.

"Yeah, she'd like to know that I'm happy. Which I am. And I never thought I'd be happy again so… okay. I'll tell her. And I'll talk to Heero about sex – but you realize that I might freak him out and then it's back to me being alone and cranky when we have these meetings."

"Duo, you _deserve_ to be with someone who not only accepts that you are, as you say, damaged, but understands that you value the profound capacity humans have for experiencing pleasure. It isn't pathetic. I very much wish that you had told me this sooner. I think that I understand you much better now, knowing that you feel that way."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Do _not_ get mushy on me, Doc."

Wufei's lips twisted up into a smirk.

"Never," he promised. "Now, I fear our time is at an end. I'm not going to _tell_ you to call Hilde and tell her that you are seeing someone… but I do strongly suggest it."

"Then I will take it under strong consideration," Duo said and stood up.

"Next week, then? Maybe on time?"

"I can't make any promises. After all, maybe I'll still be in bed, screwing Heero's brains out or something."

Wufei once again flushed, and Duo shook his head at how easily embarrassed Wufei could be.

"Out," Wufei said, but the command was softened by the smirk he still wore.

"I'm going, I'm going."

* * *

He spent the early afternoon cleaning his apartment, even though, since he had started dating Heero, he kept it significantly neater and free of the usual clutter that had seemed to accumulate almost without effort after Solo's death.

Heero was coming over that evening for pizza and, at his suggestion, a showing of Blade Runner. Duo had been amused at Heero's insistence that Deckard was human – Duo, himself, had always believed he was a replicant – and so they had scheduled their date tonight to settle the argument.

By three, Duo had cleaned his apartment and written another seven pages, but finally felt compelled to call Hilde.

Wufei was right. She would want to know that he was happy, and he could use the conversation to distract himself from fixating on HOW he would talk to Heero about his opinion on sex tonight.

She answered on the third ring, her voice breathless.

"Oh thank God you called me!"

"Um… you're welcome?" Duo was amused and also mildly concerned about how frantic she sounded.

"No, Duo, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Better than fine, really. I should have called earlier, but –"

"Good. This is hard for me to say. I mean, I could lose my job, but this is your life we're talking about – and I couldn't sleep at all last night, after I found out, and –"

"Hilde, calm down. _What_ are you talking about?" He had never heard her this hysterical. Hilde was normally so put together – even with her toughest cases she remained calm to the point of being unnerving. Of the two of them, _she_ was the less outwardly emotional.

"I'm just going to come out and say it."

"That would be nice."

"There's a serial killer using your blog as inspiration for his murders."

"No there's not." Once upon a time, Hilde and Duo had played elaborate practical jokes on each other. Surely this was yet another. Maybe she had decided that he needed the levity?

"Yes, Duo, there is."

"What – why hasn't it been in the papers?"

"The murders have, but they've been able to keep the details out."

"When you say murders, how –"

"Nineteen."

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Duo –"

"You're telling me that some crazy fuck has been _doing_ what I write? Nineteen times?"

"That they've found. Shit. I didn't mean that –"

"Yeah, you did. Holy shit."

Duo found himself feeling strangely numb. His brain had no problem understanding the words that Hilde said, but he found it impossible to connect that with reality. _Nineteen_ people were dead because of –

"Duo, this is _not_ your fault."

He didn't know if he had spoken out loud, or if Hilde simply knew him that well.

"What – do you know which – no, I don't… fucking hell, Hilde."

Over the past months he had written literally hundreds of scenarios featuring gruesome murders.

"Why?"

"I… don't know. I don't think we'll know until we find him. Or her."

"No, I mean, why did you – why couldn't you sleep last night?"

"Because my friend in the Staties told me about it, last night. He was just talking about his case, and when he described a few of the murders it sounded like your blog, so I asked him if he had read it – we were up for hours looking it over. There are at least nineteen murders over the last two months that perfectly match your blogs. Except – damn it. I really can't tell you this much."

"Why tell me at all?"

"Because I'm terrified!"

"That I'm the serial killer?"

"No! That the serial killer is fixated on _you_!"

"Well I think that's obvious."

"No, well, yes. But that's not what I mean." She sighed, and he could picture her running a frustrated hand through her hair, her go-to angry gesture. "I remember reading about this case a few years ago, where a serial killer claimed that everyone he killed was a present for this woman who he had basically been stalking for two years. It seemed so weird to me, but I researched it, and it's a pretty common thing – serial killers feel inspired by someone and they try to get their attention."

"So someone is… killing people as a fucking _gift_ to me?"

"Maybe. Or maybe not. I don't know. I'm just a lawyer. I'm not – I'm your friend, and I tend to over-analyze, so I'm scared as hell for you. I hate that your name is on your blog, so that anyone can track you down – and you have a photo! – and –"

"-and I'm inspiring someone to murder people. That's probably the part I would hate the most, you know."

"Duo –"

"What can I do?"

"What?"

"How can I – what can I do to help? What should I do?"

"Don't talk to strangers. Don't –"

"No, Hilde, with the fucking murders. Should I go to talk to the cops or something?"

"No. Don't. They'll come talk to you soon enough."

"But what if someone else dies before they do?"

"Duo, please. If anyone knows I've told you this much I could lose my job and we could both be brought up on charges of obstruction of justice."

"What? That's crazy!"

"Duo, they don't know how far back this pattern goes, but last night we were able to confirm at least nineteen people who matched your descriptions. And that's going back about two months. Have you noticed anything – anyone – in that time? Have you met any new people that might be a little off? Or has anyone started to show an interest in you that –"

"You think I _know_ who did this?"

"I don't know. I just want you to be safe."

"Hilde, the only _new_ people I've met are a few new regulars at the soup kitchen, the two new baggers at WholeFoods, the Solo clone you tried to set me up with, and –" he caught himself.

"And who? Someone suspicious?"

"No. No one suspicious. I called you today because I've been dating someone for the last two and a half weeks and I felt guilty for not telling you about him."

"How long have you known him? Did you approach him or did he –"

"Hilde! He is _not_ a serial killer!"

"Duo, you don't know that!"

"Hilde, are you seriously suggesting that the guy I'm dating is only interested in me because he's a serial killer who wants to get closer to his… source of inspiration?"

She was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"No. Obviously any guy who wanted to date you has an infinite number of reasons to find you attractive. But the timing –"

"Two and a half weeks. You said this goes back at least two months, maybe longer. He'd be a pretty shitty stalker, or at least a cowardly one, if he waited this long."

"Unless something changed, or inspired him to approach you?"

"Hilde! You sound like a crazy person!"

"Just, I'm sorry. But how did you meet?"

"At –fuck."

"What?"

"No, it's just – you're going to think it makes him into a serial killer."

"Out with it."

"I met him at the bar, the night I went on that date with Zechs. He's the bartender I yelled at. I told you about him."

"You're dating a man who you _yelled_ at. Who walked you home – when you were a complete stranger. Oh Christ, have you been alone with him? He knows where you live! Duo –"

"Hilde, I swear to God you are overreacting. This guy is really nice."

"What's his name? I can check the system, see if he's –"

"No. Hilde you are not running a background check on my boyfriend."

" _Please_."

"No."

"But he might be dangerous!"

"Hilde, I promise you, he is _not_ dangerous. He's a good guy, and he makes me happy. Something I haven't been since Solo died. And right now –fucking hell. You tell me that I'm the inspiration for some psycho who's killed almost an entire active roster's worth of people!"

"You're putting this is baseball terms. That's good. You're trying to compartmentalize. I –"

"Hilde, I just came from my therapist. Do _not_ try to _handle_ me with this. People are dying, and it's because of me. And now you're saying that maybe my _boyfriend_ – the first guy I've kissed in a fucking _year_ – might be the bastard killing them?"

"Duo, this is _not_ your fault. People have claimed that- I don't know –that Shirley Temple inspired them to kill. It doesn't mean that Shirley Temple is responsible."

"I write gory snuff scenes. I don't tap dance in a dress. If some lunatic wants to say that Shirley Temple inspired them – that makes them a lunatic. If someone reads my shit and – fuck. I'm going to take it down. Close the site."

"No! Duo, _please_. Forget about my jobs and either of us going to jail, the cops need to be able to access your site and cross reference it with all of the cold cases over the last six months."

"The last – you really think?"

"No, I don't know." Her voice turned soft. "Duo, please – look, I'm coming over tonight. We can talk more and –"

"Not tonight. I've got a date."

Her silence was so deafening that Duo wanted to yell at her.

"I am not cancelling this date because he _might_ be a serial killer. I seriously think there's more chance of _me_ being responsible that _him_."

"Tomorrow, then?"

He knew that he should let her come over, but if she was this hysterical on the phone, he was convinced that she would be impossible to deal with in person.

"Lunch?" He suggested. "I work nights at the soup kitchen anyway."

"Okay. Lunch. I'll meet you at your apartment. Duo –I'm not saying your boyfriend is a serial killer, but… if he does anything strange, anything suspicious – will you – will you please be smart and get the hell away from him and call me?"

"Oh my God. Hilde!"

"Duo!"

"Fine! If he tries to murder me I _will_ call you."

He hung up, furious with her attitude, but even more furious with himself.

He spent the next twenty minutes pacing his living room, feeling a manic surge of energy that had to be his 'flight' response to the news that HE was responsible for the deaths of almost twenty people.

Eventually he worked off enough of the energy to sit down, and he opened his laptop and navigated to his blog. He started with his latest entry, from yesterday morning, and he started to work his way back, reading and rereading entries, trying to understand _why_.

-0-

Pounding on his front door finally drew him away from the monitor. He looked at the clock, shocked to see that three hours had passed.

He had only made it back in time six weeks, but even just that amount of time was filled with so much violence that he couldn't imagine _how_ someone _hadn't_ been using his work as inspiration before this. In all honesty – it was sick, twisted. Every word designed to make the act of murder seem sensual and –

"Duo?"

Heero's voice, muffled by the door, shook him from his thoughts.

He opened the door, letting in the younger man.

"Sorry. I was distracted."

Heero frowned at him.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Here, let me get that." Duo took the box of pizza from Heero's hands.

"You don't look okay." Heero closed the door behind him and set a DVD case on Duo's coffee table before following him into the kitchen.

"No, it's –"

"You're having second thoughts about Blade Runner? Because, if you want to admit that I'm right, we can just skip the movie."

Duo shook his head. He really didn't know HOW to even begin to tell Heero about his conversation with Hilde.

He looked at the younger man, taking in the concerned way he was looking back at him. He had absolutely no doubt that Heero wasn't the serial killer. Maybe it was ridiculous for him to be so blind, so trusting, but that was how he felt. After just two and a half weeks he sincerely trusted Heero.

Which reminded him of his session with Wufei.

"Something happened, today – well, fuck, I guess it's been happening for months now, but I just found out about it today. It's pretty huge and pretty fucked up, but – damn it this makes me a terrible person. I really just want to spend tonight with you. I don't want to talk about it. Hell, I don't want to think about it, except I can't help but think about it – which sucks. Because you're legitimately the best thing that's happened to me in a year, and being with you is amazing – and these last two weeks have been… I really didn't think I'd ever have the chance to feel like this about anyone again. So of _course_ the universe has to go and –" he shook his head. "No, it's not the universe's fault. It's my fault. But –"

"Duo, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head. "Yeah."

"If you just don't want to admit that you're wrong, I understand. The first time I watched it, I thought he was a replicant too."

That forced a laugh out of Duo.

"You're amazing, Heero Yuy," he said.

Heero smirked at him.

"I know."

"I'm not admitting that I'm wrong – just so we're clear – but can we _not_ watch Blade Runner tonight?" For perhaps the first time in his life, the idea of watching something gory and violent filled him with nausea.

"Okay."

Heero leaned back against the counter.

"Hungry?"

Duo shook his head.

"No. God, I'm lousy company. You know what, you can leave, if you want, I –"

"Do you want me to go?"

"No."

"Then I'd rather stay. You don't have to tell me what's bothering you. Unless it's me, in which case I'd like to know."

"It's not you. Trust me."

"Because I'm the best thing that's happened to you in a year?" Heero said.

"I thought you had no idea what I was talking about."

Heero shrugged one shoulder.

"That part I managed to follow okay."

Heero stood back up and walked over to Duo, stopping just in front of him.

"Hey," Heero said, and it made Duo smile.

"Hey yourself," he responded before leaning down and kissing Heero.

The other man let him keep it light, but even just that, the press of their lips together, was enough to fill Duo with a sense of equilibrium that he hadn't felt since calling Hilde.

When Heero pulled back Duo studied his face. He loved looking at him, studying his features, trying to read the expression in his eyes. It seemed that every time Duo looked at him, he noticed something else about Heero's face that made it all the more appealing.

"What happened here?" He reached out and lightly ran his right index finger over Heero's left eyebrow, where a thin scar started and angled upwards, almost an inch long. It was very faint, but even so, Duo was surprised he hadn't noticed it before.

"Nothing."

Heero stepped back, and Duo could practically _hear_ him slamming down mental defenses.

"Okay." Duo felt it would be hypocritical of him to pry, considering that HE was unwilling to talk about the fact that nineteen people were dead because someone liked his writing enough to emulate it.

Heero fingered the scar, a scowl on his face.

"My father threw an ashtray at my head, when I was six, because I put too much ice in his bourbon."

His voice was completely devoid of emotion, as if he was reciting the weather.

"It was glass – it actually dented my skull, just a little. I had to get eleven stitches."

"Heero –" he didn't know _what_ he wanted to say, after that, but Duo felt compelled to say something.

"No, you should know. I should tell you." He drew in a deep breath. "You told me, about Solo, about your family."

It was true. Last week, when Heero had stopped by Thursday afternoon, in a seemingly new tradition that had inspired Duo to go out and get more desserts for him to sample, they had spent hours talking about literature, before some comment of Heero's reminded Duo of Solo, and Heero had asked him to talk to him, to tell him about them.

It had been the first time, outside of Wufei and his therapy sessions, that Duo had told _anyone_ about his family, the group home, and Solo's deaths. Hilde knew about them – of course – and had been there with him when he went to the morgue to identify Solo's body. But telling Heero, who seemed so removed and distant from the events, had been a surreal experience for Duo.

"Can we sit?" Heero asked, however, instead of continuing.

"Yeah. Of course." Duo led the way to the living room and sat on one end of the couch, leaving Heero plenty of room.

Gingerly, he sat down on the opposite end.

"I told you that he was a drunk – the first night we met."

"Yes."

"My Mom died when I was young. She had an aneurysm – this totally freak thing – and she just _died_. After that, my Dad just drank. All of the time. He started in the morning, before work, and then all through the day, and even more, at night. I think he tried to dull the pain, tried to not _feel_ anything _."_

"He was violent. At night. It got worse, the older I got – my own fault, really. Because the older I got, the more I realized how WRONG it was, and the more I would talk back."

"It was _not_ your fault," Duo growled.

Heero shook his head.

"No – not my fault in that I could have prevented it, but I… baited him, sometimes. I'd argue with him. I'd put too much ice in his bourbon, even when I was old enough to understand WHY he didn't want so much in there."

Heero shook his head, a distant expression on his face.

"I was sixteen when I came out to him. It was in the middle of a fight – I don't even remember how it started – but one minute he was shouting at me, and the next I was telling him that I liked men and then he just… lost it. I remember waking up in the hospital, the next day. I had a concussion, broken ribs, black eye – and my Dad just sat there and told the nurse, the doctor – the fucking cops – that I had been jumped by some guys who wanted to beat up a fag, to show me what happened to queers. And he looked right at me, when he told the cops. Right at me. After that, we didn't speak. We still haven't spoken. I haven't been home for Christmas or Thanksgiving since I came here."

Duo was suddenly very glad that he hadn't told Heero about the serial killer, or tried to talk to him about sex. This was not a kid who needed to be thinking about either of those things.

He mentally revised his opinion of Heero as 'bright and shiny' to 'impossible to defeat.' Because, as heartbreaking as his life was, Heero was incredibly resilient, and so well-adjusted despite the fact that he had perhaps the worst father imaginable.

And screw Hilde – for making him think, for even a heartbeat, that there was any chance that Heero was a serial killer.

And screw Duo – for ever giving Heero a reason to compare Duo to his father.

"Would it… offend you if I said that your father is scum and that you're an amazing person, despite him?"

"Is it sick that I want to defend him?" Heero responded, lips twisted into a sneer of disgust.

"No."

"I _hate_ him, I really do. I hate that even now, six years after the last time he hit me, I still flinch, when someone reaches out towards me with the back of their hand."

Duo had noticed that, last week, when they had been sitting on the couch and he had reached over to grab the blanket behind Heero's head.

"But he's my father. He's my family. And part of me – if HE can't love me then –"

"No. Do not finish that thought. That is bullshit and no. Just no. I'm sorry, again, to insult him, but your father is a _fraction_ of a man. Him not loving you, not relishing every moment he got to spend with you – is nothing to do with you. _You_ are incredible. You're fucking perfect – aside from your insanely wrong theory about Deckard and your obsession with numbers. I'm serious. If he can't love you then he's an idiot, and blind, and not worth your time."

Heero swallowed hard, and he suddenly looked very young. Duo felt very old, in that moment, staring at him, seeing just how much pain he felt and feeling helpless to fix it.

"Come on." Duo stood up.

"What –"

"No questions. Up."

Heero reluctantly stood, but followed Duo through the apartment and back to his bedroom.

"If it's okay with you, I kind of think you could do with a hug, maybe some cuddling… and the couch is a little narrow."

Heero's shoulders drooped in relief and he nodded.

Duo watched as Heero toed off his shoes and then he pulled the other man against him and guided them back onto the bed. He rolled over onto his back and let Heero settle beside him, the younger man leaning his head on Duo's chest, before he put one arm around him and started to lightly run his fingers through his hair.

"But seriously," Duo said after nearly half an hour of silence, "we need to address the fact that there is _no_ possible way that Deckard is human."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Heero grumbled, his words muffled by Duo's shirt.

"Must be a generational thing. You punk kids these days, you think everyone _has_ to be human –"

"Right, because sentimental old guys like you think robots are everywhere."

Duo could feel Heero smiling against him, and he allowed himself to smile.

He had absolutely no idea to fix Heero – to show him that he was amazing, that he really was, as far as Duo could tell, damn near perfect.

He had no idea how to fix the fact that _he_ had inspired a serial killer to murder nineteen people.

But at least, if nothing else, he could make Heero smile. It was such a small thing, but right now, he would take it.

* * *

If you've been waiting for Trowa and Quatre to make an entrance, then your wait is almost at an end. We will meet them both next chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Chapter 5**

* * *

Warnings: Language, violence, angst…major angst (probably a bit more than my usual. Okay, a LOT more than my usual), sex… yaoi sex, that is.

A/N: This fic evolved as a friendly challenge with Emilinia-sama. The original premise: Duo is an up and coming writer whose work is being used by a copy-cat serial killer; and on a MAYBE unrelated note he falls for a much younger Heero. She also suggested it be light and fluffy… but, well… yeah.

A/N #2: As always a very special thanks to my fabulous beta Cuzo!

**A Very Dark Corner**

Chapter 5

Wednesday morning found Duo even more depressed and convinced that he was a horrible human being.

Last night, comforting Heero and burying all of his own problems had been a respite – and how sick was it that he thought Heero's emotions and troubled past was a _respite_ – but now, in the cold light of the November dawn, Duo was once again forced to confront reality.

He listlessly poured coffee into a mug, stirred in sugar, too much milk, and then sat down in front of his laptop at his desk.

Glaring at the screen, at his smirking face on the front page of his blog, did little to ease his guilt and anxiety.

There he was – _indulging_ in his worst thoughts, and he was _smiling_ about it. No wonder some crazy person identified with him – Duo had to be crazy himself, to think that this was anything normal or right.

Fueled by a rush of anger and self-loathing, Duo opened up his novel and proceeded to delete it, all thirty seven pages, and then put the empty document into his trash bin.

Enough. He had done enough damage, he did not need to write something that could reach millions of people. He had infected enough, as it was.

More out of a desire to punish himself than anything else, Duo continued to read through his blog, going back farther than he had made it last night, burying himself in the dark, gory visions.

He roused himself only when he heard Hilde knocking on his front door and calling his name. He looked at the time, shocked that four hours had passed since he first sat down at his computer.

Duo opened the door and Hilde barged in, arms loaded with Chinese takeout, and walked past him into the kitchen.

He closed the door and followed her.

"So, you're alive," she said.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to kill myself or anything."

She rolled her eyes.

"I _know_ that. I'm saying, your boyfriend didn't kill you."

"Yeah. Miraculously."

"I'm just saying –"

"He is _not_ a serial killer, Hilde. He's got – he's not." He thought about Heero's past, his childhood, and was once again amazed at how together the young man was. _Much_ more together than Duo could hope to be.

Duo refused to even entertain the idea of Heero killing people – he wanted to be a _math_ teacher, he liked the Mariners, and he thought A New Hope was better than The Empire Strikes Back. No serial killer could _possibly_ prefer New Hope to Empire. It wasn't logical.

"He's new in your life, and it just seems strange that he would approach you _now_ , after you were less than civil, and –"

"Hilde, stop it. I'm serious. He _likes_ me. I like him. This is the first guy I've kissed in a _year_. He makes me _happy_."

Hilde sighed.

"I'm sorry. Oh, Duo. I _want_ you to be happy. I do. I just –"

"Don't want me to be brutally murdered. I get that, but I'm telling you, he's a good guy."

Before Hilde could say anything else, Duo picked up a carton of Garlic Chicken and, using the chopsticks, shoved a piece into her mouth.

She glared at him, but chewed, and the tension between them settled.

Working together, they dumped rice and the chicken on two plates and then went into the dining room and sat down to eat.

Duo used this room very rarely. Solo had insisted on eating meals at the antique Cherry wood farmhouse table, breaking his rule only when one of them was sick, or the World Series was on – a concession he made for Duo.

Now, with Solo gone, the table seemed massive and staring at it and the six empty chairs around it only made Duo feel more isolated.

Whenever Hilde invited herself over, however, she always insisted they eat at the table.

"So tell me about him," she finally said, her voice resigned.

"I'm not giving you more _clues_ you can use to prove he's a psycho."

"I won't," she insisted. "This is me, best friend Hilde, asking to know about this guy who is so amazing that he actually makes you happy, when _you_ insisted that would never happen again."

He held her gaze for a long moment, trying to determine whether or not she would be able to separate her instinct to see the worst from her desire to be supportive.

"He's great," Duo finally said. "He makes me laugh. He likes science fiction –"

"The prequels?" Hilde interjected, a concerned frown on her face.

"Direct quote, 'what prequels?'" Duo smirked when Hilde laughed.

"He likes baseball – and, God, Hilde, he'd never had cheesecake before he met me. He grew up without eating sweets – of any kind. You should see his face when he eats chocolate. It's criminal, really."

Hilde arched an eyebrow.

"He sounds a bit sheltered."

Duo shrugged. He agreed with her – but at the same time, Heero had faced _way_ more in his life than anyone who could be labeled as 'sheltered.'

"So he's a bartender. Where at?"

Duo shook his head.

"No, I do not want you dropping in on him."

"Hm… but you met him on your date with Zechs. So…"

"Hilde. I'm serious. Do _not_ go snooping around. I'll introduce you if things start to look serious."

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "Have you had sex yet?"

"No," he said.

Her eyes widened.

"And he's… okay with that?"

"Yes and no. I told him I wanted to get to know him before I jumped into bed with him, and he understands. Doesn't mean that he doesn't keep pushing for more each time we're together." Which Duo actually appreciated. He _liked_ that Heero was so obviously physically attracted to him.

"Wow. I'm really happy you're with someone who gets that."

"Yeah. Me too." He sighed. "Okay. Talk to me about the serial killer."

"Duo –"

"Hilde, please. This is my fault. I _need_ to know."

"It is _not_ your fault. Do you think Stephen King feels guilty when someone is inspired by –"

"Please, your Shirley Temple example was enough. But you can't deny the fact that people are dead, dead exactly the way that I described them dying, and that they wouldn't be, if I hadn't written my blog."

"Yes," Hilde eventually agreed. "But those boys might still be dead –"

"What boys?"

She sighed.

"The serial killer seems to follow your scenes as closely as possible – I mean, _really_ detailed and copying exactly here – but he doesn't kill women. He kills men. So far all of the cold cases that fit the pattern are sixteen to nineteen year old men."

"Jesus."

"Duo –"

"Children. He's killing _children_ because of me."

"Duo, stop it," she commanded, steel in her voice. "Stop it right now. You are a writer. You put your work out there, and people read it. What you write – it's dark and violent and beautiful. There are a lot of people out there, perfectly normal people like you and me, who enjoy reading that sort of thing because it engages our senses, but we do _not_ act on it. You are _not_ responsible for the people who do. You cannot control what other people do. Whoever the killer is – he didn't wake up one day, read your blog, and say 'now I know what to do with my life.'"

"You don't know that," he interrupted.

She rolled her eyes.

"You're right, I don't, not for sure. But I think – and the lead investigator thinks – that this is someone who is fairly experienced. Refined. With serial killers like this, if you're lucky enough to start tracking them in the early stages, then you notice their… skill level increasew, as time goes on, as they get more familiar with killing people. Our killer is already there."

"So he's been doing this since I first started writing."

"Duo! This isn't helping. This is some seriously bad shit and you need to _focus_. There is a crazy person out there who _worships_ you. That's never a good thing. Plus, he's probably still killing people. You _need_ to set aside your obsession with self-flagellation and focus. Stop trying to drown yourself in misery. Please."

He sighed.

"Then what am I supposed to do instead?"

"There's a good chance you _know_ the killer. That you've met him – I'm _not_ saying it's your boyfriend – and that he follows you, on the internet, in real life. You need to be careful."

"Okay."

"Duo –"

"I said _okay_."

She sighed and then shook her head.

"You should expect a few guests, in the day couple of days."

"Cops?"

She nodded.

"Don't be surprised if you're treated as a suspect -"

"I'm at least an accomplice," he pointed out bitterly.

"No, you aren't. When they come by and question you, try not to let your...distaste for authority figures get in your way too."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. So says the Duo Maxwell who tee-peed the Dean's house back in college. The same Duo who -"

"Okay, I get it. I'll behave."

"Let's not get delusions of grandeur, here," Hilde said. "You don't know _how_ to behave."

He glared and she grinned at him before sitting back and scooping up more food.

"I hate you," he muttered.

"I know," she responded with a smile.

* * *

By Thursday morning, Duo had made it back to the very beginning of his blog, all the way to his first, inexpert scribblings.

He tried, as Hilde suggested, to stop thinking about his own role in this, but he was unable to. He wasn't Stephen King. He wasn't Shirley Temple. He was the hack who gave the creative license to some lunatic and inspired him to kill nineteen – at _least_ – nineteen people.

He spent the morning trying to clean his apartment, but he would continually stop and reread blog entries, trying to pinpoint which ones might be the worst, which ones the killer had decided to copy.

It was almost twelve-thirty when someone knocked on his door.

Duo felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn't know why Heero was half an hour early, but he was relieved. The thought of sitting here alone, reading through any more of this - he didn't think he could do it.

He opened the door, but instead of finding Heero on the other side, there were two strangers.

They were both men, dressed in suits and broadcasting an air of confidence and casual indifference. The taller of the two men, who had several inches on both his companion and Duo, was lean and his strong, angular face was framed by a dramatic fall of auburn bangs that partially obscured his sharp green eyes. The other man, blonde, tanned, and possessed of brilliant blue eyes, looked open and _almost_ friendly. Almost, because the firm set of his lips was just this side of foreboding. Still, he had nothing on green eyes, whose mouth was drawn into a slight sneer at the sight of Duo.

"Er, can I help you?" Duo asked them, suddenly wishing he had socks on. He didn't know why, but standing in front of these men in just jeans and a sweater, with no socks and his hair loose, made him deeply uncomfortable.

"Duo Maxwell?" The blonde asked.

"Yes?" He echoed the questioning tone without thought, earning a glare from green eyes.

"I'm Lieutenant Winner and this is Lieutenant Barton. We're with the Massachusetts State Troopers. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

So these were the guests Hilde had told him to expect. He reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to know, that Hilde could loose her job if he gave any indication that he had been warned about this visit - or given any details of the case.

"Of course. Come in." He stepped away from the door and gestured them inside.

Winner started to walk around, inspecting the apartment, while Barton sat down on the couch and casually crossed his legs and put one arm on the back of the couch. His eyes never left Duo.

"Can I - do you mind if I grab some socks?" Duo finally broke down and asked after several minutes of silent staring from Barton.

"This is your house," Winner assured him.

"Great. I'll just be one second."

He walked to his bedroom and pulled a pair of socks from his dresser. He pulled them on, trying to balance on one foot and then the other. He looked up to find Winner watching him, a slight smirk on his face.

Duo grabbed a hair tie from on top of the dresser and pulled his hair back, forgoing his usual braid in favor of just having his hair out of the way.

He walked back into the living room and resisted the urge to shove his hands into his pockets.

"So… do I need to call my lawyer or…?"

"Do you?" Barton asked.

"Um…" Duo looked over to Winner and decided that he, clearly, was the good cop of this relationship.

"We just want to ask you a few questions. If you want to call a lawyer, then we can take you down to the station and continue this discussion."

So much for him being the _good_ cop, Duo thought. The blonde had delivered the words politely, but the implicit threat – that they _would_ arrest him – was easy enough to read.

"So, these questions…" Duo prompted when both men remained silent.

"You seem nervous," Barton commented, his sneer drifting into a slight smile.

"Well, yeah. There are two cops in my house and as far as I know, I haven't done anything wrong… but you two project the warmth and tenderness of a python, so… yeah. I'm nervous."

"But if you haven't done anything wrong, then surely it doesn't matter how warm and fuzzy we are," Winner said idly, looking at Duo's books.

"Right."

He stood in silence, watching Winner walk around and Barton remain perfectly still.

"Nice place," Winner finally said as he sat down beside Barton on the couch.

"Thanks."

Duo stood for a moment and then sat down in the armchair across from the couch, feeling awkward standing with the two of them seated.

"What do you do for a living?" Winner asked as he pulled a small, black notebook and pen from the inside pocket of his suit.

"I… well, I guess I'm a writer?"

"You don't sound very sure," Barton said. "Because your work is crap and you doubt the value of your efforts?"

Duo blinked and sat back.

"Ah, no. I just haven't had a book published yet. I'm still – I was – it's not done."

"But in this day and age, there are more ways to get… creative endeavors out there than relying on the publishing industry," Winner pointed out.

"True."

"Which I'm sure you've tried."

"Yeah."

"You _are_ the author of A Very Dark Corner? A daily blog about 'the horrors only we can imagine for ourselves'?" Winner read from his notes, quoting the tagline for Duo's blog.

"Yeah, that's me."

"So you write torture porn every morning," Barton surmised. "Must be a helluva way to start the day."

"My therapist recommended it," Duo felt obliged to point out.

"Your therapist?" Winner echoed.

"Yeah. I was having trouble expressing my… you know, my emotions, my dreams, so he recommended that I do it anonymously, on the internet."

"Hardly anonymous with your name and face plastered on it," Barton drawled.

"Yeah, well, I've never been very good at follows instructions." He winced, realizing that that wasn't the _best_ thing to say to two cops who were, undoubtedly, trying to decide if he was a serial killer.

"Can we assume this unpublished book of yours is more of the same?" Winner asked.

"Yeah," Duo reluctantly agreed.

"Delightful," Barton muttered.

"It's not for everyone," Duo said, then wondered why he was bothering to defend himself. If _he_ was disgusted by it – why shouldn't _they_ be?

"Just a small, target audience of like minded individuals?" Winner suggested.

"I guess?"

"What do you have against women?" Barton asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes, but what do you have against women? Why do you enjoy killing them?" Barton extrapolated.

"I don't. I mean, I don't kill them – I write about them dying. But I don't have anything against women. My best friend is a woman."

"Are you a homosexual?" Barton asked.

"Look, I'm not really sure what's going on here. _Did_ I do something? Am I in trouble?" Duo hated the why he said 'a homosexual' – as if having a preference in men made him an entirely separate species.

"That's what we're here to find out," Winner said. "Do you know Alex Michaels?"

"No," Duo said after searching his memory for a moment.

"Seth Abrams?"

"No."

"Thomas Alcott?"

"No."

"Terry Stevenson?"

"No – wait." Duo frowned. That name, for some reason, stuck out to him. Then it hit him and he paled. "He was that kid, the sixteen year old who was found dead last week, wasn't he?"

Duo suddenly felt as though he had been slammed into a brick wall. Terry Stevenson was dead because of _him_. And those other names - those boys were all dead, because of _him_.

"And did you have the good fortune to see him _before_ he died?" Barton asked.

"No. I've never – I'd never heard about him or anything until I read it in the paper."

"Make a habit of going through the obits?" Barton asked.

Duo shrugged one shoulder.

"Occasionally. For inspiration."

"Inspiration," Barton echoed, filling the word with so much loathing that Duo flinched.

"Why do you see a therapist?" Winner asked.

"That's private," Duo immediately snapped.

Barton arched an eyebrow, but remained silent.

"Would it have anything to do with the death of your parents?" Winner pressed.

Duo forced himself to stay calm.

"Yes."

"How did they die?"

"A car crash. When I was nine."

"And… who are Helen and Edward Reynolds?"

"My foster parents. They ran a group home."

"They died too, right?" Barton asked.

"Yes."

"A fire… the other three children died as well. You were the only survivor."

" _Yes_ ," Duo repeated.

"How old were you?"

Duo hated that Winner clearly had all of this information yet insisted on asking him questions and drawing him into the painful memories.

"Sixteen."

"You certainly benefited from their deaths," Barton remarked.

" _What_?" Duo didn't bother to keep the anger and dismay out of his voice.

Barton shrugged one shoulder.

"When the Reynolds died you inherited quite a bit of money – must have been nice for you. How did you know they changed their will to leave their fortune to the foster kids they had?"

"I didn't. I didn't even know they _had_ money until the reading of the will. I thought they were just regular, middle class people. I mean – they used to be a priest and a nun in the Catholic church. That's not exactly the background for financial success." Duo realized he was rambling at the same time that he realized the implications of Barton's question.

"Are you implying that I – that I killed them for their money?"

Barton shrugged one shoulder again.

"The case is over ten years old and it's a bit out of my jurisdiction."

"And you're the first person to _ever_ accuse me of killing my foster parents." The very idea of it made his stomach churn. He had been a troubled child when Helen and Edward took him in, and he had fought against the rules at the group home and given them no cause to trust or like him. But for some reason they did, and over time he grew to love them. Losing them at the age of sixteen had been every bit as painful as losing his biological parents seven years earlier.

"What can I say… Florida doesn't have very high standards for making detective," Barton said with a bored sigh.

"After their deaths, you were moved around to several foster homes in a two year period… five, I believe," Winner said.

"Yeah." It had seemed that just as soon as he finally settled into a place he was shipped off somewhere new. At his age it had been impossible to be placed in a home where there was any possibility of adopting him. Instead, he had joined the mill of foster children shipped around from home to home by foster families who wanted to "try it out" or who seemed to view a foster child as an asset. He knew that foster families weren't all like that – the Reynolds had been the proof that a foster child _could_ be safe and happy in a group home – but the two years before he turned eighteen were the worst of his life.

"Strange, that no one wanted to hold onto you for very long. But then, with your track record… I guess I couldn't blame them." Barton still hadn't looked away from Duo, in all the time that they had been talking, and Duo was seriously starting to hate the color green.

"Do you feel any resentment about your childhood?" Winner asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"Resentment? Who would I resent?"

"God? Your fellow man?" Barton suggested.

"No. I mean, God, yeah. But –"

"The Mallory's died, four years ago," Winner interrupted.

"The – Jesus, what happened?" They had been the second family to foster Duo, after the Reynolds death, and he had been happy there, for four months, before James Mallory had been laid off and the couple had decided to move back to their hometown in Oregon and Duo had been shuffled back into the system.

"B and E gone bad. They were shot," Barton supplied.

"I had no idea," Duo said, genuinely sorry that he had never thought about them much after they abandoned him.

"And what was your relationship with Solomon Levi?" Barton asked.

Duo held his gaze for a long moment, trying to buy himself time. Of course they would want to talk about Solo. And if the questioning up to this point was any indication, Duo was _not_ going to enjoy it.

"He was my fiancé."

"How long were the two of you involved?" Winner asked.

"Seven years. We met at FSU."

"Levi was a good guy," Winner said casually. "He liaised with my office a few times."

"He never mentioned you," Duo couldn't help but say, knowing it was snide and bitchy, but feeling the need to fight back in some small way.

"Given your… luck, we'll say, it's no surprise that he was murdered last year. About this time, right?" Barton added.

"Yeah. A year ago three weeks from today."

"I never cared much about him," Barton confessed, "he seemed dull as hell to me. But – now this _is_ interesting – how did a social worker, making next to nothing a year, manage to buy this apartment building?"

"His family had money," Duo said and shrugged. "When we moved up north this building was for sale… Solo wanted to try his hand at renovating some of the apartments."

"And now this place is prime real estate," Barton pointed out. "I imagine if he was still alive he'd be seeing quite the return on his investment." He paused. "But, wait – when he died _you_ got all of his assets, didn't you?"

"I did," Duo said between gritted teeth.

"So you're sitting on all that cash the Reynolds left you… and now you've got Levi's money added to that… so of course you can sit around and write your torture porn all day."

"This has been a lot of fun. Really, but if you don't have any questions to ask me about anything that matters, can you just –"

"So Levi's death doesn't matter to you?" Barton asked.

"That's _not_ what I said. Of course it mattered."

"They never did find his murderer," Winner mused. "You've had some life, with everyone you know dying. To lose him like that – I read the autopsy report. He was gutted from neck to crotch. And his face –"

"Stop. Please." Duo had never heard any details. He hadn't been asked to identify Solo's body, but he had been told that it wasn't a sight he wanted to see. Solo had wanted to be cremated, so Duo had followed his wishes. Part of him was grateful that he had never seen his corpse – it was bad enough to _know_ that Solo was gone, but Duo didn't think he could handle seeing his lifeless body. Especially if what Winner said was true. Duo had never tried to imagine what Solo had looked like. He knew that he was brutally murdered, and every time his mind wandered towards those words he slammed all thought to a screeching halt. He did not want to think about it. He _couldn't_.

"But you write this stuff all the time. By your standards, this is actually pretty tame." Barton pointed out.

"Not Solo. I can't. No."

Winner shrugged.

"In any case, I imagine you went round the bend, after that, am I right?"

Duo glared at him, seeing no point in answering that question.

"So, before, sure your faith in God was shattered. But after that… you can't sit there and tell me that you were still a big fan of mankind."

"Mankind didn't kill him. A person did."

"Hm," Barton said, but it didn't sound as though he agreed with Duo.

"Okay, listen, can I just make a quick phone call?" Duo asked and jumped up from his chair.

"You aren't in prison. You aren't under arrest. We're just talking." Winner said casually.

"Great."

Duo dug his cellphone from his pocket and called Hilde. As the phone rang he walked towards the kitchen, hopefully out of their earshot, but not conspicuously so.

"Hey," she answered after the third ring.

"They are _here_. Right now. They've been here for – fucking hell, it's already almost one."

"Duo, I told you this would happen. Just cooperate and -"

"Hilde I _am_ fucking cooperating. But they aren't asking me anything about my writing, or the murders. They're talking about Solo, and the Reynolds, and –"

"Who is it? Who's there?"

"Two guys. Lieutenants Winner and Barton."

"Quatre's there? And did you say _Trowa_? Oh God. I am so sorry."

"Hilde, I really think I should tell them. I don't know what the fuck they are investigating but –"

"Problem?" Winner asked, loudly, from the other room.

His voice obviously carried, and Hilde sighed.

"Put him on the phone. It will be better if I tell him."

"Thank you."

He walked back into the room.

"Ah, Lieutenant Winner, could you…" he held the phone out to him.

Winner stared at it suspiciously but finally took it from Duo's outstretched hand.

"This is Winner," he said and stood up from the couch. "Hilde?" He shot Duo a strange look and then walked away, back to the kitchen that Duo had just come from.

Duo sat back down on his chair, and wasn't surprised when Barton immediately resumed glaring at him.

Duo debated looking away, but decided that it would be indicating guilt or weakness, so he stared right back.

It was perhaps five minutes later when someone knocked on his door.

Barton scowled and looked at Winner, still in the kitchen on the phone, before turning his glare back to Duo.

Duo felt a miniscule surge of triumph at the thought that Barton had looked away first.

He stood up and crossed to his door, knowing – hoping and dreading – that Heero was on the other side. He really had _no_ idea what to do now.

"Hey," he said as he opened the door.

Heero leaned forward to kiss him, but Duo stepped back in alarm.

With a frown, Heero walked in to the apartment. He immediately spotted Barton on the couch and his frown turned into a scowl.

"Babysitting?" Barton drawled after looking over Heero and taking in the backpack slung from one shoulder.

" _No_ ," Duo hissed. "He's my boyfriend."

It was the first time that Duo had introduced Heero to anyone, and Duo felt equally nervous about Heero's reaction and the reaction of the cop, who clearly had no respect for Duo, and had demonstrated little respect for homosexuality.

"Really? Barton said, sounding interested, and Duo wanted to insert his foot into his own mouth.

Before Barton could say anything, however, Winner stormed out of the kitchen. He thrust the phone back at Duo, and it was obvious that he was _furious_ and just barely keeping a lid on it.

His eyes slid over to Heero.

"Who is this?"

"His _boyfriend_ ," Barton drawled.

"Who are _you_?" Heero demanded.

Barton arched an eyebrow.

"Lieutenants Barton and Winner with the State Troopers."

"Ah," Duo said and looked at Winner, "I'm sorry about –"

"I'll just bet you are," Winner growled. He looked over at Barton. "She told him about the investigation."

Barton swore softly and then turned to glare at Duo.

"So you've been playing us?"

"Me? _You_ guys are the ones who sat here for half an hour dredging up every shit thing that's happened to me and haven't asked me _any_ questions about _anything_ useful."

"That's because we haven't ruled you out as a suspect."

"Suspect in what?" Heero asked.

Barton's eyes gleamed and he smirked at Duo.

"An ongoing murder investigation. Twenty-two murder investigations, actually." Barton said.

"Twenty-two?" Duo echoed. "Not nineteen?"

"We aren't done yet, there's likely more. This is only going back three months."

"Fucking hell." Duo scrubbed his face with his hands.

Twenty two people were dead because of him. Almost two dozen. Hilde had said most of them were young men – most not even eighteen yet. He swallowed hard.

"What can I do? What can I tell you? How can I help?"

Barton snarled and looked on the verge of saying something, but Winner put a hand on his arm.

"Why don't you talk to the boyfriend, and I'll talk to Maxwell?" he suggested.

Barton's eyes narrowed, but he shrugged one shoulder and gestured for Heero to take a seat.

The younger man looked at Duo, and his expression was unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Duo said to him, unsure what ,exactly, he was apologizing for.

"We can talk in the kitchen," Winner spoke up, and Duo followed him into the other room.

They spent a moment staring at each other, but then Winner shook his head.

"If this comes out during the trial – if there's even a whisper of this, we'd get hit with a mistrial and leave the case open to appeal. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah, and I understand that my best friend could lose her job."

"Your best friend? Fuck me." Winner ran a hand through his hair, upsetting the part and causing a few strands to fall across his forehead. It made him look _much_ more human. "She won't lose her job. Well, if she's does I'll have lost mine too." He sighed and looked steadily at Duo. "She insists that you're innocent, that there is no way you could have done this."

"She's right," Duo said. "This is… beyond any nightmare I've ever had."

Winner continued to hold his gaze.

"My gut tells me you're honest, that this wasn't you. And my gut instincts are almost never wrong."

"I want to help you find whoever is doing this, okay? I _need_ to. So – trust me or not, just please asking me something fucking relevant so you can find this sick bastard."

One corner of Winner's mouth tipped slightly upward and he pulled his notebook and pen back out.

"How often do you respond to comments on your blog? From readers?"

Duo shrugged.

"I try to keep up with them – well, the ones who don't seem bat shit crazy or – fuck. Do you think it's one of them?"

Winner nodded.

"I'm sure Hilde went over the profile with you? Obsessive and a fair amount of hero worship. This serial killer is definitely your biggest fan. It's possible he – or she – hasn't contacted you, but this has been going on for months. I doubt our killer has that kind of patience. Likely they've been stalking you since before the murders started."

"Stalking me. For months."

"They don't want _you_ dead," Winner pointed out drily. "They want your acceptance."

"What does that mean?"

"All of this was done in exact replica of what you described. Except that instead of females, our killer has been using men."

"Which I don't get. I mean, it's not like any of the stuff I write is sexual, so it doesn't really matter – but if the intention is to copy my work, then why change the gender? And why _only_ kill men?"

Winner shrugged.

"That's something that bothers me… and Hilde."

"How do you two know each other?" Duo asked. He doubted that someone who seemed as committed as Winner was likely to spill details on a case to a casual acquaintance.

"We've been dating for the last three months," Winner said, looking slightly pained.

"You – she – she never told me."

"She never told _me_ about _you_ , either," Winner growled. "But that's not the issue at hand."

"Right," Duo agreed, still reeling. Why hadn't Hilde told him she was seeing someone?

"It's possible that the killer chose males instead as an attempt to… improve on your work, or to carry out his own vendetta."

"So he's not, really, my biggest fan then."

"No, he is. The detail he goes to is… exacting. In all the cases we've linked, he does exactly what you describe. Even his methods of disposal are the same."

Duo frowned.

"The bleach and the trash bags thing? I wrote that… five, six months ago."

"Exactly. Is there anyone _new_ in your life, since you started writing the blog? Someone who might have expressed interest in you?"

Duo sighed. This was the line of questioning that Hilde had been harping on as well.

"Heero Yuy– my boyfriend. My therapist, Wufei Chang, I guess, since he's the one who suggested this in the first place. Neither of those two are serial killers, though."

"How long have you know Heero?" Winner asked, pen poised to take notes.

"Almost three weeks."

"Hm. We first started making connections between cold cases about three weeks ago – "

"He's a bartender and a college student. Details have been kept out of the paper. _How_ would he know that?" Duo interrupted, before Winner could continue the thought.

Winner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's what Trowa keeps saying. All of these pieces… they seem to point towards someone very meticulous, someone who knows how to kill, knows how to dispose of bodies so that we find them, and who knows how _we_ work."

"So… a cop?" Duo asked, thinking about his deleted chapters.

"No. Maybe." Winner shook his head. "Can you go through your blog and read over comments? Make notes on who leaves the most feedback – anything that sticks out to you at all."

"Okay, I can do that."

"And… keep writing."

"You can't be serious! You want me to keep feeding this lunatic ideas?"

"I don't want to upset his routine, not until we know what the hell it is."

"But, maybe if I stop –"

"He won't stop killing, just because you stop writing. He'll lash out – punish you for it. He might start killing _more_ people. He might come after you. Keep to the routine."

Duo sighed.

"This is a fucking nightmare." He rubbed his temples, feeling desperately powerless.

"We'll be in touch," Winner said, and then seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he shook his head and left the kitchen.

Duo followed him, and was unnerved to find Heero and Barton discussing baseball, of all things.

When they entered the room, Barton stood.

"Thank you for your time," Winner said again.

"It's been such a pleasure," Barton added.

And then they were gone.

Duo closed the door behind them, turned, and leaned against it.

"So…" he said, looking at Heero.

The young man had abandoned his backpack by the couch and was sitting in the armchair Duo had previously occupied.

"Is this what you didn't want to talk about, Tuesday night?" Heero asked.

Duo nodded.

"Yeah. My friend – anyway, I just found out about it and – look, if you want to go, I completely understand." He realized that Heero was too nice, too well mannered, to probably think of just getting up and walking out.

"Why would I go?" Heero looked genuinely confused.

"Because I'm involved in a murder investigation! Twenty two!"

"But you aren't the suspect – that's what Lieutenant Barton told me."

Duo stared at him and then shook head. Barton had walked in like he expected to find bodies under the couch, and he had never thought that Duo was guilty in the first place?

"But it's still – I might as well be. There's some serial killer out there who I've _inspired_ to do this shit."

Heero frowned and shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

"My blog – the things I write. This serial killer is copying all of the murders I've written."

"Can I read it?" Heero asked.

Duo sucked in a breath. His first instinct was to say no, but didn't Heero have the right to read them – to know just what kind of sick man he was involved with? What dark thoughts Duo was capable of? He _should_ have shown it to him long before now.

He walked over to his laptop and pulled up the site.

"I'll just… be over here," Duo said and gestured to the couch.

Heero sat down at the desk and started to read.

Hours later, after Duo had read and reread the last month's worth of Sports Illustrated magazines, Heero got up from the computer.

Duo knew he hadn't read everything – it had taken _him_ days – but, judging by the look on Heero's face, he had certainly read enough.

"I have to go to work," Heero said.

"Um, yeah, of course."

Duo stood, awkwardly, as Heero collected his backpack.

"I've got class and work all day tomorrow," Heero added.

"I know."

"Saturday –"

"Heero. It's okay. You don't have to make excuses. I get it."

The other man frowned and shook his head.

"No. I just want to think. Can I come over, Saturday afternoon?"

Duo hadn't been expecting that – he had been convinced that Heero would run as far and as fast in the other direction as he could.

"Okay."

"Thank you," Heero said. He started to lean forward, as though he intended to kiss Duo, but he caught himself.

"I'll… see you then," Duo said and opened the door.

Heero walked out, and this time, as he walked down the stairs, he didn't look over his shoulder at Duo.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Chapter 6**

* * *

Warnings: Language, violence, angst…major angst (probably a bit more than my usual. Okay, a LOT more than my usual), sex… yaoi sex, that is.

A/N: This fic evolved as a friendly challenge with Emilinia-sama. The original premise: Duo is an up and coming writer whose work is being used by a copy-cat serial killer; and on a MAYBE unrelated note he falls for a much younger Heero. She also suggested it be light and fluffy… but, well… yeah.

A/N #2: As always a very special thanks to my fabulous beta Cuzo! Although, for this chapter and the previous, any mistakes you catch are entirely my fault – she's been sans internet and unable to help me with my debilitating use of commas, so I've been my own beta recently.

**A Very Dark Corner**

Chapter 6

Friday night found Duo lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Earlier in the day he had called Wufei and the therapist had somehow managed to use his wiles, on the phone, to convince Duo to tell him everything about the serial killer.

The fact that Wufei's first reaction to the news that a serial killer was using Duo's blog as a how-to guide for slaughtering innocent people was rage, had startled Duo. That it was rage directed towards the killer, who _dared_ to pervert Duo's words was even more shocking.

He had had to listen to a five minute rant about the injustice of art being warped by lesser mortals and a very drawn out monologue about Plato. Somewhere along the way, Duo actually had to tune him out, and didn't focus on his words again until Wufei shouted his name several times to get his attention.

Wufei had then gone to great lengths to make Duo understand that this was not his doing, it was not his fault – it was a series of events that he was involved in, and that he _could_ positively influence, but not a disaster of his own creation.

While Duo did not completely agree with him, he was, finally, starting to feel the creep of doubt in his conviction. He wasn't willing to distance himself from the blame in this, but maybe – _maybe_ it wasn't entirely within his control to have prevented this. Maybe.

Duo wound up watching Return of the Jedi three times and caught himself questioning the morality of the Rebel troopers, who seemed so at ease killing the Stormtroopers while the troopers could hardly shoot anywhere _near_ a living being and Duo realized he was too far gone and should try to sleep.

It was only eleven, but after a sleepless night on Thursday, and not much sleep on Wednesday before that, he hoped that he could, at last, close his eyes and rest.

While his mind did drift, he was unable to really sleep, and finally gave up on it.

His phone started to ring and Duo reached for it immediately, hoping it was Hilde calling to tell him the serial killer had been captured, and saw that it was Heero calling.

He felt dread settle in his stomach. It wasn't Saturday afternoon yet.

He had really been counting on another day before the younger man decided to break up with him. He had _needed_ it to steel himself for the fact that he would, once again, be alone.

"Hello?" He answered eventually, knowing it was cowardice not to.

"Can we talk?"

Heero sounded just the slightest bit unsure, and it made Duo sigh. This was not going to be good.

"Sure." He rolled over onto his back and tried to mentally prepare himself for the reality of Heero breaking up with him.

Instead, however, Heero hung up on him.

Duo scowled at his phone. Had he dropped the call? Should he call back? Had Heero _meant_ to hang up on him? What if -

His thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on his door.

Reluctantly, Duo rose from the bed and walked to the door.

He looked through the peephole and was shocked to see Heero on the other side.

Duo opened the door.

"Hey."

"Hey," Heero repeated. "Could I come in?"

Duo stepped aside to allow the other man in.

It took him a moment to realize that Heero should be at work.

"Aren't you late?" He asked.

"I called in sick," Heero said, his blue gaze searching Duo's face. "I wanted - I _needed_ to talk to you tonight, not tomorrow."

"Right." Duo felt like he had been punched. Ironic, that waiting for Heero to break up with him had been painful. Now that the event was immediately before him, he wanted to go back to waiting.

Duo gestured towards the living room, and Heero sat down on one end of the couch.

He briefly debated whether or not he should sit on the armchair, or join the other man on the couch. If this was the last time he was going to have Heero here, he might as well sit near him, he reasoned, and sat down on the other end of the couch, still giving him space.

"I'm not really sure where to start. I have... three different arguments, and they're equally important."

"Okay... you don't think one is enough?"

Heero frowned and shook his head.

"No. I want you to understand me. _I_ want to understand me, this."

"Okay," Duo said again and tucked one foot under him, preparing himself for a lengthy discussion.

"I'm only twenty-one, and I _know_ that I've got most of my life ahead of me," Heero began.

Duo nodded in emphatic agreement.

"Right. And you don't need this weighing you down. I get it, seriously, you -" he stopped talking when he realized Heero was glaring at him. "I'll just let you say it," Duo muttered.

"I've always told myself that at some point in the future, I'd have the time and opportunity to be happy. When I was in high school I used to tell myself that I'd be happy in college. That if I could just make it out of Seattle, away from my Dad - things would be better. Then, when I got here, when things weren't, really, that much better, I started to tell myself to wait for grad school. But recently, I realized - I'm just going to go to grad school and tell myself to wait for after, wait for work. Then it'll be wait five more years, then ten."

"No, you _will_ be happy," Duo felt the need to interrupt. "I promise, things will get better and -"

"Duo, I _am_ happy. I'm happy _now_. Just when I thought I wouldn't ever be happy, just when I realized that maybe it's me, maybe I'm just not meant to be happy - I met you."

"I don't understand." Duo hadn't had any previous experience being dumped - not unless he counted Sarah Forbes back in second grade when she had ditched him for Jimmy King, who had better lunch desserts - so he didn't have a lot of experience to draw on, but this didn't sound like something you said to break up with someone.

"You make me happy. I'm happy with you." Heero said it like it was the most obvious fact in the world.

Duo felt even more lost, and decided to just stay quiet.

Heero drew in a deep breath, and it looked like he was struggling to find the right words.

"I've experienced a lot of darkness in my life," he said eventually. "Not the same things you have, but... I know what it's like. Some days I just lay in bed and hope that I can wake up - that my life is this nightmare that I've just been trapped in for a while."

Duo swallowed hard at the emotion in Heero's voice and had to fight his urge to reach out to the other man.

"I haven't lost the things that you have," Heero continued, "but I've lived _without_ them long enough to know how painful it is to _not_ have a family, to _not_ have someone you love more than breathing. Being with you - it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Watching movies with you, eating cheesecake, talking to you- _kissing_ you - these past few weeks have been amazing. I didn't know things could be like this, for me."

Duo was now beyond the point of mere confusion and beginning to wonder if his mind had developed some weird defense mechanism to alter Heero's words so that, instead of hearing the painful truth, he was hearing some dream version.

"I took this lit course my freshman year," Heero said after a moment, "Victorian Literature. The prof insisted that every author - no matter how bad or how good - always put himself into their work. They might disguise themselves, they might show their best or worst qualities - but they were always there. Always. When I got off work last night I went home and kept reading your blog. You're a really talented writer," he paused, "but you aren't that good at being subtle," he added with a slight smirk.

"What?" Duo asked. Heero was going to break up with him _and_ attack his writing?

"You're the victims," Heero said, and his voice grew soft. "I know it's written from the point of view of the killer, and that the victims are women, and they're all different... but they are all you. Writers write what they know. And YOU know what pain and anguish feel like. You know what loss feels like. And you know how to fight it. That's why they all fight - all of your victims. Because they're you, fighting this impossible, losing battle against fate and all the shit that's happened."

Heero's blue eyes were intense and Duo forced himself to meet the younger man's gaze.

"Your blog - it isn't a love letter to violence, it's more like... more like you asking death to leave you the hell alone."

Duo had, from the very beginning, thought that Heero was incredibly smart. The fact that he was one of two people, the other being Wufei, who actually _understood_ what he wrote was... beyond belief.

"And it's all too much for you, right?" Duo asked, trying to keep his voice neutral as he brought them back to the point at hand. "You finally felt happy and then there's just this darkness surrounding me, and it's all I can see, and you want out. I _get it._ It's okay. You -"

"You really, _really_ talk too much sometimes," Heero growled. "I'm not breaking up with you. I'm not saying it's too much. _Stop_ putting words in my mouth."

The anger in his voice made Duo sit up a little straighter.

"I want you. I want t _his_. I want to be here for you. I needed time to think about it, to decide if this would really be good for you, if I was good for you, and -"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait. You good for _me_? What about _me_ being good for _you_? There's a serial killer out there who is copying my work - and since he lacks your literary analysis skills I think it's safe to say _he_ thinks it's a love letter to _him_ \- and I _am_ surrounded by darkness and -"

"Seriously, shut up," Heero said and closed the distance between them, practically tackling Duo backwards as he kissed him.

Heero's irritation with Duo was clear, even as his lips pressed down on Duo's with a firmness and urgency that had Duo instantly responding to the kiss, but when Heero's hands moved to cradle his jaw, Duo realized that Heero meant it. He did want this.

He might be seven years younger, he might have never buried the man he planned to spend the rest of his life with, but Heero _knew_ what he wanted. He now, more than ever before, knew exactly what he was getting in Duo. And he still wanted it. Still wanted him.

Duo eased them back, so that Heero was beneath him and they were stretched out on the couch, still kissing, but now their entire bodies were flush against each other.

"You know," Duo said when they pulled apart for air, "you kissing me when I talk too much isn't exactly a punishment. It's more like an incentive."

Heero smirked up at him.

"I figured as much."

"God, you have the most incredible eyes," Duo said as he continued to look at the other man. "Really expressive," he added. He leaned down and kissed Heero again, smiling at his enthusiasm. "I love when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" Heero asked, his voice rough with desire.

"Like you're tasting chocolate for the first time," Duo responded with a smirk.

"That's sort of how I feel, when I look at you," Heero confirmed. "When I kiss you," he added and pulled Duo back down to him, their lips meeting again.

It amazed Duo how much just the touch of Heero's tongue against his seemed to ignite a fire all over his body. Kissing the other man, hearing him moan in pleasure, feeling his hands ghost under his shirt and rake over his back – it made Duo feel _alive_.

Heero pushed against him until they were sitting up, and Heero pulled Duo's shirt off, baring his chest to the other man's touch.

Heero started to kiss and nip his way down Duo's throat and across his chest. Duo groaned when he gently bit down on his nipple.

"I want you," he said, sitting back and looking at Duo with lust filled eyes that nevertheless conveyed the seriousness of his words.

Staring into those eyes, Duo found himself unable to fight his desire for the other man. He wanted Heero as well, and he knew that this wasn't just sex anymore. It wouldn't just be mutual physical attraction – it would be more than that, now.

He pulled Heero to his feet and kissed him while steering them towards his bedroom.

Duo stopped when he felt the edge of his bed against the back of his legs. He broke their kiss and lifted Heero shirt up and tossed it aside, exposing his lean chest.

"God, you are so beautiful," he said as he looked at him.

Heero smirked, but there was an edge of uncertainty to it that made Duo want to hit something. He loved how confident Heero was, but the self-doubt he occasionally broadcast was testament to the fact that he had had little positive reinforcement in his life.

Duo decided to change that.

"Seriously," he said, and stepped aside so that there was space between their bodies. "You're perfect." He ran his hands over Heero's shoulders and down his back, smiling at the shiver of pleasure his touch evoked. He ghosted his hands over Heero's stomach, having learned early on that he was ticklish, and traced the slight but distinct muscle definition in his torso and back up to his jaw. He reached up to brush Heero's bangs out of his eyes before kissing him again.

He felt Heero's hands reach for his jeans and start to undo them. He returned the favor, and soon they were both naked.

Duo could feel Heero's erection, firm and hot, against his own, and he couldn't resist the urge to thrust against him. The sensation of their erections, trapped between their bodies and rubbing together was amazing. Both men moaned.

"How do you want to do this?" Duo asked Heero.

More often than not, Duo had bottomed for Solo, but they had enjoyed switching things up in their relationship. Duo wasn't sure what experience Heero had, or what he wanted.

He saw the confusion and doubt in Heero's eyes and kissed him again, hoping to ease the tension he suddenly felt in the other man's body.

"I've only ever –"

"What do you _want_?" Duo interrupted, not too keen on being compared to Heero's college experiences.

"What do _you_ want?" Heero turned the question on him.

"You. I want to be in you. I want you in me. But we can kind of only do one at a time," Duo pointed out with a slight smirk.

He reached down to touch Heero, having previously discovered that the other man responded well to slow, almost leisurely strokes along his length.

Sure enough, Heero started to look a little unfocused and his shoulders lost the tense set to them.

"Yeah," Heero agreed shakily. "I don't want to do something wrong."

"If you do, we can try again," Duo promised him. When this whole thing had first started he had been convinced that this moment – that having to ease Heero into this – would fill him with frustration and awkwardness. Instead, he felt very protective of the other man. He wanted this experience to be unlike his others, he wanted him to enjoy it, and he wanted him to stop looking like he was trying to solve a complicated math problem.

Duo continued to stroke him and closed the distance between them, kissing Heero again and letting their tongues tangle together until Heero pulled them both down to the bed and wrapped his legs around Duo, forcing their bodies together.

Duo rolled them so that Heero was straddling him, thinking that it would be a position that the other man would feel comfortable with.

"I want you in me," Heero finally decided, his breath uneven. "Next time can I –"

"Yes," Duo stopped him before he could sound uncertain again. "Next time I definitely want you in me."

Heero smirked at that, and Duo was relieved to see no sign of doubt in the expression.

Duo reached over to his nightstand, grateful that he had thought to prepare for this eventuality and didn't have to rely on lube and condoms that were a year old.

He fumbled for both and set the condoms aside for the moment and screwed off the cap for the lube.

After coating his fingers, he turned back to Heero and kissed him again even as he started to lightly caress Heero's entrance.

He was slow and thorough as he prepared the other man, taking his time for both their sakes. It had been a very long time for Duo, and he had no intention of being rough with Heero.

When he judged the Heero to finally be ready, Duo rolled them over and eased back so that he could put on a condom.

Heero watched him the entire time, his eyes fixed on Duo's erection until Duo was convinced that he might still be tense or anxious about this, but then Heero licked his lips in anticipation.

Duo groaned at that and had to kiss him again.

Heero kissed him back and arched his body upwards, as though inviting Duo to finally plunge into him.

He accepted the invitation and slowly worked his length into the other man. He was tight, and so very hot, and Duo was almost certain he wouldn't last long. Heero felt too damn good.

"You okay?" He asked Heero, and received a vigorous nod in return.

"Yes," Heero said and then groaned in pleasure when Duo started to move, slowly thrusting in and out of the other man.

He reached between their bodies to stroke Heero, wanting to give him as much pleasure as possible.

"Fuck," Heero hissed after a moment. "This isn't –"

Duo instantly stopped moving.

"I can stop," he said and started to pull out.

"No. _No_. It feels incredible. It's nothing like before, with Nate."

"Good," Duo grunted and pushed into Heero again. "You deserve better than him."

"This _is_ better," Heero assured him. "Infinitely better."

Duo smirked.

"I wouldn't go that far yet," Duo told him before kissing him again. He enjoyed the dual sensations of having his tongue and his cock inside the other man, and from the way that Heero shifted up to meet him, it was clear the other man found it pleasurable as well.

He changed his pace, moving faster, hoping to bring Heero to orgasm before he came.

"I'm close," Heero panted a few moments later. "God, it feels so good. Duo – "

"Come for me, Heero. I'm here. I'm here with you."

He could feel Heero tense up beneath him and then felt the hot stream of his semen flow over his hand and between their bodies. Heero's muscles tensed, seeming to pull Duo deeper into him, and with a few more thrusts, Duo found his own climax.

"That was incredible," Heero concluded.

Duo chuckled and slowly pulled out of him.

"No kidding," he agreed.

He leaned down to kiss Heero and then got up from the bed.

Heero looked at him in confusion.

"Be right back," Duo told him.

He went into the bathroom, disposed of the used condom, and ran warm water over a washcloth. He cleaned himself off and then returned to the bedroom. He took his time wiping the sticky mess from Heero's belly and chest before setting aside the washcloth and rejoining him on the bed.

"Thank you," Heero said, and it was clear from his tone he wasn't referring to being cleaned off.

"Thank _you_ ," Duo responded and kissed the other man's shoulder.

He rolled over onto his side and pulled Heero's back against his front and wrapped one arm around his chest. He could feel the steady drum of Heero's heartbeat under his hand, and it filled him with a sense of wonder.

"I meant what I said, before," Heero spoke up after a moment. "I want to be here for you."

It was a harsh, if well intended reminder, that Duo had a very fucked up life. One that Heero just kept getting pulled deeper into.

Duo sighed and felt regret begin to tug at him. He shouldn't have done this. He never should have allowed Heero to mean this much to him. He _never_ should have taken this step with him. He should have, as soon as Hilde told him about the serial killer, sent the younger man on his way and never seen him again.

Heero deserved so much better than him. He deserved better than a man with his twisted past and his dark future.

" _Stop_ ," Heero crankily commanded him. He sounded on the verge of sleep.

"What? I wasn't talking."

"But you were t _hinking_."

"I'm not allowed to think now?" Duo demanded.

"Not if you're going to regret this," Heero said, his insight once again shocking Duo.

Duo sighed.

"Heero –"

"Don't feed me any bullshit about being too young or you being too messed up," Heero warned.

"Okay, how about the fact that there's a serial killer out there who thinks I'm aces and could, at any moment according to Hilde, decide that instead maybe I'm the devil and decide to kill me?"

"So, because something shitty could happen to you, I should run the other way," Heero concluded.

"Yeah," Duo agreed, glad that Heero had followed his logic so quickly.

"No," Heero said.

"Heero – "

The other man rolled over in Duo's arms until they were looking at each other, so close the tips of their noses almost touched.

"If you really want me to leave, if you really think that being with me isn't a good idea, I'll go." He paused. "But if this is coming from your guilt over the death of your family, or Solo – if this is about you thinking that nothing good can last in your life – then you owe it to me to fight for this."

There was steely determination in Heero's voice and Duo found himself smiling in the face of such conviction.

"The sex was really nice," he said, hoping to change the subject and give Heero the answer he was clearly looking for.

Heero kissed him.

"I knew it would be. Hot old guys are always great in bed."

* * *

_Things didn't go as planned. Something was off. The plan was flawless – he executed it perfectly. Yet the pleasure he usually felt at having brought these creations to such a visceral conclusion was missing._

_He wanted to blame himself. He felt that maybe he had rushed things – maybe he hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate the elegance of death. But no, he was confident that it wasn't him. He felt sure that_ Duo _wasn't keeping up his end of this. Not only had the author missed several days of publishing his blog, but then, this morning…it had been so succinct and with barely any guidelines for him to follow. It was almost as if Duo had lost interest, as if he grew tired of this._

 _The thought filled him with dread. Duo was both his muse and his mentor. He needed the brilliance and depth of the other man's desires to motivate his own. He_ needed _his words to be able to find the beauty._

_Something had to be wrong, then, with Duo. He needed help, clearly._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Chapter 7**

* * *

Warnings: Language, violence, angst…major angst (probably a bit more than my usual. Okay, a LOT more than my usual), sex… yaoi sex, that is.

A/N: This fic evolved as a friendly challenge with Emilinia-sama. The original premise: Duo is an up and coming writer whose work is being used by a copy-cat serial killer; and on a MAYBE unrelated note he falls for a much younger Heero. She also suggested it be light and fluffy… but, well… yeah.

A/N #2: As always a very special thanks to my fabulous beta Cuzo!

A/N #3: And I bet you all thought I forgot about this fic!

**A Very Dark Corner**

Chapter 7

Over the past few weeks, life had fallen into a strange routine for Duo. In some ways it was a reflection of his activities from the past year – he still got up in the mornings and wrote his blog, still found himself drinking cold coffee by the time he finished writing and remembered it was by his elbow the entire time, and he still showed up late to his appointments with Wufei. The difference, of course, was that he now despised writing his blog – he second guessed every word, every sentence, wondering if it was _too_ graphic or not graphic enough. Winner wanted him to keep the serial killer to his same patterns, but Duo wanted all of it to end. He didn't want to encourage the killer to ever take another life, and he found it increasingly difficult to sit down in front of his computer in the mornings.

The rest of his days, however – were completely new. Heero came over several afternoons each week, whenever he finished classes and had time before work and most of that time was spent in pursuits that involved absolutely no clothing. Heero had quickly decided that his first sexual encounter with Duo was only a precursor of better things to come – it was almost as if he viewed sex as some kind of mathematical equation that he could solve with just the right variables, and so insisted on sex as often, and as varied, as possible.

Duo found it surprisingly easy to accommodate Heero – no doubt it was partly because he had been so starved for physical contact over the last year, but part of it was also the earnestness with which Heero approached sex. He wanted so badly for it to be perfect, and it reminded Duo of himself, years ago, when he had first met Solo and had needed to prove to the older man that he could hold his own in their relationship.

They did other things besides screw like rabbits, however. On nights when Heero wasn't working or studying he came over to watch movies or Duo took them out for dinner.

Heero didn't sleep over very often – usually only on the nights he came over after work – but Duo was now seeing the younger man every two or three days.

The afternoons and evenings he spent with Heero almost balanced out the darkness of Duo's mornings and the overwhelming guilt that plagued him whenever he so much as looked at his computer.

A few nights before Heero's Thanksgiving break they went into Boston for dinner at a Moroccan restaurant and then spent several hours walking through Barnes & Nobles, comparing books, music, and DVDs.

It was exactly the sort of thing that Duo used to do with Solo – and Duo realized that even though he enjoyed it just as much with Heero, it was for different reasons.

They argued about different things than he and Solo had, and Heero had very different taste in reading material than Solo had. But that aside, Heero seemed to approach every book, every CD, every DVD, with an open mind. He tried to find something of merit in each story or song.

It was the complete opposite of how Duo felt. He knew he was a cynic – life had certainly given him no reason to be otherwise – and he found it much more difficult to find anything redeeming in most of the things they looked through.

He could have written it off as Heero's age, but Duo suspected that even when Heero was thirty, forty, or older, he would have an appreciation and openness for new things. It was just part of his personality.

The more time Duo spent with him, the more he realized that Heero, despite his past and the doubts he had expressed about himself, really believed that the world had positive experiences to offer him.

Duo found himself envying that to an extent, but even more so he wanted to protect Heero and he wanted, above all else, to be someone Heero found merit in.

It was a strange feeling. Duo had always believed that being with Solo made him a better person – and likewise for Solo being with him – but he had never felt this driven to _be_ a better person for someone else.

They were just leaving the bookstore – Duo had managed to keep himself to just one book and Heero, unable to choose between three possibilities, came away empty handed – when Heero's cellphone rang.

Heero frowned at the number on the screen, and his voice, when he answered the phone, was different than Duo had ever heard it.

"Hello?" Heero said cautiously.

Duo couldn't hear whoever was on the other line, but he saw Heero completely tense up in reaction to the words.

"How long?" Heero asked after several minutes of listening.

"No. I don't know." Heero abruptly hung up the phone.

"Everything okay?"

Heero shook his head in the negative and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

The car ride back to Duo's apartment was in silence.

As they lay in bed that night, Heero uses Duo's chest as a pillow and Duo idly tracing patterns on the smooth skin of Heero's back, Duo couldn't help but ask the other man about his earlier phone call.

"Who called you earlier?"

Heero's body became absolutely still, as if he wasn't even breathing, for a moment.

"My father," Heero breathed.

Duo didn't know how to follow up that bombshell, so he remained silent, letting Heero talk at his own pace. Something that Duo had _finally_ started to do.

"He has liver cancer. The prognosis is very bad – he found out a few months ago that he only had a few months left. He wants to see me. He wants me to come home for Thanksgiving."

"Are you going to go home?" he asked.

"No," Heero said after a long moment of silence. "I can't see him now. Not like this. Not knowing that he's going to die."

Duo remained silent, trying to figure out what Heero was feeling – what he could be remembering. He wondered, if their situations were reversed, if he would make the same decision.

As much as Duo loathed Heero's father – to the point of actually feeling a hint of joy at the news that he was dying of liver cancer – Duo had a hard time thinking that refusing to see him, one last time, would benefit Heero.

If Duo had had the chance to see his own father once, just before he died – _knowing_ that he would die – or even to see Edward Reynolds again, he knew that he would have leapt at the chance. But then, the only bad things that either of those men had ever done to Duo were die.

"You think I should go," Heero said.

Duo tried to choose his words carefully.

"I think that this is your last chance to see him. He called you, Heero. He _talked_ to you – after years of silence he reached out to you. Yeah, it's because he's dying, but he wants you. He wants to see his son one last time and… I think you'll hate yourself if he dies and you never had the chance to tell him how you feel and show him what you've become, in spite of him."

"You're right," Heero agreed with an annoyed sigh.

"Get used to it," Duo told him.

Heero snorted a laugh.

* * *

Duo's parents had never been big on Thanksgiving – they had been only children and their parents had had them late in life, so by the time they had Duo, all of his grandparents were dead and there was no great pilgrimage to make for the holiday.

Added to that, Duo's mother hated cooked with a passion, and his father only grudgingly saw to it that the family didn't starve. So, for Thanksgiving, Christmas and any other special occasions they went out for dinner.

It wasn't until Duo was a foster child living with the Reynolds that he had even tasted roasted turkey.

Solo's family, on the other hand, were amazingly enthusiastic about Thanksgiving. They were also very Jewish, so the fare they put out was a strange mix of American tribute and kosher appropriate food that had always puzzled Duo.

The first time that Solo brought Duo home to his parents had been over the Thanksgiving holiday, and Duo had been convinced that they would hate him and that the entire long weekend would be torture.

Instead Ethel, Solo's mother, had opened the door and kissed him square on the mouth before hugging him so tightly he couldn't breathe. He had been welcomed instantly to the family – even though he and Solo had only been dating for a few months and even though, as Solo's mother confided to Duo later that same night, Solo had a habit of short-term relationships that, at most, lasted three months.

Solo's father had just asked one question – how Duo felt about the Yankees – and when Duo had given the correct answer, that they were the scourge of the earth, Joseph Levi had clapped Duo on the back and pronounced him a 'vast improvement on the last _gornisht helfn goy_.'

It became a tradition every year for Duo and Solo to travel north for Thanksgiving with Solo's parents. After Duo, Solo, and Hilde moved up north as well, Duo and Solo still went to the Levi's for the traditional mid-afternoon lunch and then stopped by Hilde's apartment later that night to pick at whatever more traditional feast she spread out and to spend time with Hilde and Solo's friends from work.

Duo hadn't given much thought to what he would do this year – his first without Solo in seven years – except adding a slew of 20s and 30s horror films to his Netflix queue. He had already told Hilde he wouldn't be stopping by for the traditional late supper – it felt too strange, the idea of hanging out with people he didn't know and had no interest in knowing, without Solo with him to make introductions and provide amusing office gossip about the strangers. But then Ethel called him a week before Thanksgiving to ask what time he would be coming over.

He had only seen the Levi's three times after Solo's funeral – once a few weeks after, for a disastrous lunch that had resulted in Joseph breaking down and crying while Ethel and Duo barely managed to keep it together themselves; a few months after that, for Duo's birthday, when they had met for dinner and that time Duo had been the one to leave in tears; and a few months after that, for Ethel's birthday – when it had been _her_ turn to cry. He kept in touch, emailing them once a month, out of habit and guilt. Ethel was a pro with Jewish guilt – every month she reminded Duo that Solo had been a gift from God, for all of them, and that Duo had made his last years on earth his happiest and Duo owed it to Solo to be happy himself and _when_ would he find a nice man to settle down with? She had even emailed Duo facebook links to several 'nice young men' from her temple.

But Duo hadn't been able to move on, and as much as Ethel encouraged him to find a new man and bring him over to introduce to Ethel and Joseph, Duo couldn't imagine how that meeting would be anything but disastrous.

Solo had meant too much, to Duo and to Ethel and Joseph, for Duo to _ever_ be comfortable introducing another man to them.

So now here he was, carrying a bottle of Ethel's favorite wine and walking in the freezing wind, alone, to the home of his dead fiancé's parents. It was twisted and depressing – but Duo had a feeling that Heero's Thanksgiving was every bit as awful as this was for him, and if Heero could suffer through three days with the man who had beaten him severely enough to hospitalize him, Duo could spend a few hours with two people who, inexplicably, treated him like part of their family.

When he arrived Joseph let him in and Duo was immediately struck by how much the older man had aged in the last few months. He looked _old_ and it shook Duo.

"David, it's so good to have you," Joseph said and hugged him.

Once, it had frustrated Duo when Joseph and Ethel refused to call him Duo and would only call him David, but the way they said the name – the affection and slight Hebrew accent – had grown on him.

Sometimes Solo had called him David, especially after they spent any prolonged amount of time with his parents, and while Solo had still been affectionate, he had also managed to _somehow_ inject enough innuendo into the name that even now Duo found himself blushing when Joseph called him that.

"Look at you," Ethel exclaimed, coming out from the kitchen to greet him, "too skinny."

Duo couldn't help but smile at her old complaint – he had always been too skinny, according to her, and so had Solo. They used to joke that she considered any man who wasn't morbidly obese to be anorexic.

He handed over the bottle of wine and Ethel kissed him on the mouth and then used her thumb to brush away her lipstick.

Her hand strayed to his cheek and then to his long bangs, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before she finally dropped her hand back to her side.

Her eyes were bright and wet and Duo hugged her.

"Oh, my dearest David," she said into his shoulder.

Joseph looked at them with a slight frown, and Duo could only imagine how difficult this was for him.

"Well," Ethel said as she pulled away and brushed at her eyes. "Dinner is almost ready. David, Joseph has a question for you – something about Twitter he needs you to explain."

Joseph rolled his eyes and when Ethel left he leaned in close to Duo.

" _She_ needs it explained. I don't care about Twitter – what am I going to do with that?"

Duo smirked.

"I feel the same way," he confided. "But I can probably figure out whatever it is she needs to know."

"Good."

Joseph led him into the office and sat down in front of their computer and started it up.

Duo took the opportunity to look around the familiar room. There were a few family photographs on the walls – tracing the history of the Levis from the earliest days of photography in the nineteenth century to more recent shots. Duo's favorite photograph of Solo was still on the wall – it was from his time at Princeton, and it was a spontaneous photograph captured by Ethel. Solo was standing alone, under a tree, looking away from the camera and laughing his head off at something that Joseph – who was notorious for trying to avoid Ethel's overzealous photographing of every moment of their lives – had said.

Solo looked young, handsome, and completely happy and at ease with the world.

Joseph caught him looking at the photograph.

"You should take it with you," he said.

"What? No." Duo shook his head.

"Yes. Ethel hates that one anyway – she doesn't appreciate the fact that he's laughing because I was making fun of her and her damned camera."

Duo smirked.

"She is a menace with it," he murmured, recalling countless holidays and special occasions where Ethel took so many photographs she might as well have bought a video recorder and made a documentary instead.

Joseph got up from the computer and took the photograph down. He held it out to Duo.

"I can't, I –"

"You don't want it," Joseph concluded. He sounded hurt and disappointed.

"No," Duo stopped him from hanging it back up and took hold of the frame. "No, I want it. I just don't want to _take_ it. I've taken enough, haven't I?"

Joseph shook his head.

"No, David, you haven't _taken_ anything. You gave Solomon so much happiness. And you've given Ethel and me so much pride."

Duo swallowed hard at that. He didn't feel as though he had done _anything_ to merit pride in anyone. He had done absolutely nothing with his life – except witness everyone he loved die – and, of course, inspired a lunatic to become a serial killer.

Joseph pushed the photograph into Duo's hands and stepped back.

"Thank you," Duo said. He cleared his throat and sat down in front of the computer. "Let's get Twitter set up for Ethel, okay?"

* * *

After the meal Ethel insisted on serving coffee and pulling out photo albums. It was part of the annual Thanksgiving tradition – and due to the fact that she had religiously taken photographs of every stage of her life, Duo invariably felt like he was being treated to a museum exhibit.

He had no photographs of his own family, or his foster family, and despite Solo's constant attempts to avoid Ethel walking them through family history year after year, Duo had loved this part of Thanksgiving.

It wasn't just because he liked to see what Solo looked like as a kid – he liked the photographs of Ethel and Joseph after they first married, and the photographs of Ethel's family from her childhood almost as much. There was a story there, a family and a history, that Duo would never have for himself.

"Now," Ethel said and sat down between Joseph and Duo on the living room couch after retrieving a red leather photo album. "Here's a new one for us to look at."

"New?" Duo asked, and instantly regretted it when Ethel opened the cover and he was confronted with a photograph of himself and Solo from that first Thanksgiving.

"God, we were so young," Duo muttered.

"And so _skinny_ ," Ethel added with a 'tsk' sound.

 _And happy_ , Duo thought, looking at the series of photographs from that year. Duo looked awkward in most of them – he had been unprepared for the welcoming reception from Ethel and Joseph and had spent most of that trip on eggshells, convinced that at any moment he would ruin something – but in a few that Ethel had captured without him knowing she was taking photos he looked happy. Especially the ones with Solo – there was one of the two of them on the front porch, sitting side by side with their shoulders touching, and Solo was leaning over to kiss Duo.

"So handsome, my two boys," Ethel said and ran her finger over a photograph of Duo and Solo from Hanukah that same year. Solo had made Duo go to temple with them – after Duo made Solo promise to go to Christmas Eve Mass with him – and they were dressed in suits and ties and, Duo had to agree, did look very handsome.

Duo was fine until they flipped through to June.

Ethel and Levi rented a house on the Cape every summer and Duo and Solo had always joined them – either for a weekend, a week, or once – and never again – an entire month. They always rented the same house, small enough to be considered a cottage, that had a beachfront yard and an old hammock strung over the sand in front of the porch.

Since Solo eschewed his mother's photography habit, Duo had never seen most of these photos before – but he had been aware of a fair number of them, having been forced to pose and stand with a frozen smile for minutes at a time alongside Solo and Joseph.

There was one of Solo and Duo stretched out in the hammock at sunset. Duo was asleep, his head pillowed on Solo's chest, but Solo was awake and he was looking down at Duo's head, smiling. It was a look that Duo had seen on Solo's face countless times – the same look that usually accompanied Solo saying 'I love you' or 'get naked, right now.'

It was a look that Duo would, now, only ever see in photographs.

Solo was gone – a mere specter who resided only in Duo's memory and here, on these glossy pages. In the past.

It felt as if a crushing weight were pressing down on Duo's chest, making it impossible to breath and impossible to feel anything but overwhelming pain.

"I, I, ah," Duo's throat was thick and he struggled to form words. "I can't. I can't look at these."

He stood up, trying to put distance between himself and the golden, smiling ghost of Solo.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

Duo knew it was unspeakably rude and selfish – but he had to get out of that house, away from Solo's parents, away from Solo's photographs, away from that life that Duo would never have.

He escaped as quickly as possible – he didn't even remember to get his overcoat before he practically ran from the front door and started off at a brisk pace, walking away from the house as fast as he could without it looking like he was running away.

"Fuck," he muttered as he walked. "Fucking, fucked, _fuck_."

He had been doing so well – he had been moving on. He had Heero. He had Heero's smiles and touches and kisses and Heero's _heartbeat_ to fall asleep to.

And then, with the force of a freight train and the gentle caress of a cruise missile, the memory of Solo was crashing back into his life.

Wufei had warned him earlier in the week, at their last session, that these next few weeks would likely be the most difficult since Solo's death – Thanksgiving, Solo's death, their never-used wedding date, Hanukah, Christmas – and Duo had grudgingly acknowledged the possibility that the next month would be absolute hell.

Of course, Duo was already _in_ hell – knowing that someone was cheerfully murdering people at Duo's instigation while Duo was completely powerless to do _anything_ about it.

Despite Quatre's orders to the contrary, Duo had stopped writing his two weeks ago. He simply could _not_ contribute any more violent fantasies to a murderer's macabre arsenal of things to do.

Duo suddenly had the urge to get very, very drunk.

He knew drinking alone, in a bar, on Thanksgiving would only make things worse – there were too many memories of Solo tonight for Duo to fight them off on his own – so almost without conscious thought he started walking towards Hilde's apartment.

He wouldn't know anyone, but then again, that didn't really matter. He could drink in the company of strangers and he could try his damnedest to drown the image of Solo smiling down at him.

* * *

When Hilde's apartment door opened Duo instantly regretted his decision to come here to drink.

Quatre Winner, a smile on his face, his blond hair in artful disarray and his green sweater and tan khaki attire making him look like an Eddie Bauer ad, opened the door.

The smile instantly disappeared.

"Duo."

"Quatre," he responded after deciding that he wasn't going to call the man Detective Winner.

"Hilde said you weren't coming."

"Well… change of plans. Are you going to let me in?" Duo asked when Quatre remained planted in front of the door.

"Yeah. Sure."

He stepped aside and ushered Duo in, and Duo's regret transformed into an acute desire to find the nearest bridge and just jump off it.

There looked to be another six or seven people in Hilde's living room – all laughing and drinking and balancing plates filled with food on their laps as they sat on any available surface and ate – and Duo only recognized three of them. Hilde, wearing the same fifties retro apron she wore every year for Thanksgiving; Trowa Barton, who looked up at Duo's entrance and who's face lost all animation and transformed into a mask of disdain; and Zechs Merquise, who _smiled_ at Duo in a way that was almost – but not quite – how Solo used to smile at Duo when he came home at night.

"Oh fuck _me_ ," Duo muttered.

"I think I'll pass," Quatre said.

Duo frowned. He hadn't realized he had spoken loudly enough for the other man to hear.

Zechs was already getting up and walking towards them, and Hilde had noticed he was here – so it was impossible for Duo to turn around and leave now without coming off as a complete freak.

"Duo, Hilde said you wouldn't be able to make it," Zechs greeted him with a broad smile.

He forced himself to smile back.

"Yeah, well, change of plans…"

Hilde came over and wrapped him in a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you made it!"

"Yeah, me too," Duo said and patted her back awkwardly.

She stepped back and looked between Duo, Quatre, and Zechs.

"Well…" she started, clearly unsure of _how_ exactly to start up a conversation with the three men.

"I'll walk Duo through the buffet," Zechs volunteered.

Duo fixed Hilde with wide, alarmed eyes, but before she could come to his rescue, Quatre put his arm around her.

"Great," he said and steered her away.

"I'm sure you've been through this before," Zechs said and gestured towards the kitchen.

Reluctantly, Duo started in that direction, Zechs by his side.

"A few times," he said. "And I'm actually not hungry. I just need a glass of something strong."

Zechs arched an eyebrow.

"I seem to remember a previous date with you completely drunk. Am I going to fare better this time?"

Duo frowned.

"I wouldn't call this a date," he pointed out and gestured towards the rest of the guests, "more of a party."

Zechs smiled slightly.

"Well, you can't blame a guy for trying," he said with an eloquent shrug.

Duo could – especially when the guy looked so much like Solo it made him just want to close his eyes and never open them again.

He found the liquor – conveniently spread out on the kitchen counter and poured a glass of straight scotch, not even bothering with ice. He downed it quickly and poured another.

"I never would have guessed you were such a heavy drinker," Zechs mused.

Duo shrugged.

"You always manage to catch me on bad nights."

"I wish I could make them _better_ nights," Zechs mused and reached out to run his hand down the side of Duo's face in a caress that made Duo freeze.

"Sorry to interrupt," Trowa Barton drawled and stepped between them, forcing Zechs to back away, and started to pour himself a drink.

"So good to see you again, Detective," Duo sneered.

"Yes, I imagine the pleasure is all yours," Barton agreed. He regarded Duo with narrow eyes. "I see your _habits_ have changed recently."

Duo arched an eyebrow. He was positive that Barton was alluding to his lack of blog updates.

"Yeah? Well, people change. Sometimes for the better."

Barton gave Zechs a pointed look.

"It certainly appears that way," he agreed and smirked at the tall blonde man. "I haven't seen you in a while, Zechs. We should have lunch sometime."

Barton rested one hip against the counter and turned his back to Duo, his entire attention focused on Zechs.

"I've been a bit busy," Zechs said with a shrug.

"You should free up your schedule," Barton practically purred before shoving away from the counter. He sneered at Duo. "After all, if you let a bad habit become an old habit it's pretty hard to break."

He left and Duo stared after him. His brain simply couldn't process what had just happened.

"I'm sorry – he's _gay_? And did he just hit on you?" Duo turned to Zechs in a daze.

The blonde man scowled.

"Yes. This has been going on for years – I'm never sure if he's just making fun of me or if he's actually interested."

Duo honestly couldn't tell either, but he still jumped at the chance to foist Zechs off on someone else.

"Well, he's a hot guy. If you're interested, you should go for it with him."

"I'm not interested," Zechs assured Duo. "He's not my type."

"Your type?" Duo echoed dully and shook his head. He poured his third glass of scotch, sipping a little slower on this one. "Please tell me you don't have a _type_."

"No, you're right. Not a type so much as… an ideal."

"That's even worse," Duo assured him. "An ideal? No one can live up to an ideal – hell, no one can even _live_ can they? I mean – look at you. You're this amazing golden god and…" Duo trailed off and shook his head. He was looking at Zechs but he was thinking of Solo.

He hated how similar they looked. He hated how even Zechs' gestures were mimics of Solo's. He hated how much it affected him.

"You're saying that even this amazing golden god can't fantasize about the man he'd like to be with?" Zechs asked.

Duo shook his head.

"I do not get it – how the hell are you standing here flirting with me after what happened last time?" He couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm a complete wreck, man, so yeah – I'm saying an amazing golden god can't be fantasizing about _me_."

"I guess it's a good thing you don't make the rules, then," Zechs murmured.

Duo had to laugh at Zechs' confidence.

"You're something else."

"So are you," Zechs agreed.

Duo shook his head again.

"I really thought coming here and getting drunk off my ass would help, but I'm thinking being here is a mistake."

"Why?"

"Because it's just making everything worse."

Duo sighed and finished off his drink.

"I should go. It was, ah… nice seeing you again."

Zechs frowned.

"Let me give you a ride home, you just had a lot to drink."

"Nah, I walked, I'll be fine."

"Then I'll walk with you," Zechs insisted. "I don't really feel like staying either, and I can use this as an excuse to leave before Trowa drinks too much and tries to molest me."

The mental image those words conjured made Duo chuckle.

"A fate worse than death," he deadpanned.

Zechs nodded in sad agreement.

Duo shrugged.

"Sure. You can use me as an excuse."

He walked out of the kitchen and nearly ran into Hilde.

"Hey," he kissed her cheek, "I'm going to head home."

"What? You just got here!"

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just… too much Solo tonight. I'm lousy company and you've got a great party going on here."

She frowned.

"I don't mind kicking everyone out if you want to stay," she offered.

"No, but thanks for the offer."

Zechs walked up, scarf around his neck and in the process of pulling on an overcoat.

Hilde arched an eyebrow and Duo rolled his eyes.

"I've got to head out as well," Zechs said. "Thank you for inviting me – this was a very pleasant way to spend the evening."

Hilde nodded.

"Yeah, of course. I'm sorry you couldn't stay longer."

"Night," Duo said and waved before leaving, Zechs right behind him.

"What happened tonight?" Zechs asked once they were on the street.

Duo frowned at him.

"You said I always caught you on bad nights. I can understand why our first date was a bad night, but what happened tonight?"

"The past. Memories." Duo sighed. "Have you ever wanted something so much that you honestly don't feel like you could go another day without it?"

"Yes," Zechs agreed almost immediately. "And it always seems to be something that you can't quite have – no matter how much you want it or how much you try."

Duo nodded.

"Yeah. Jesus Christ, _yes_. You know what's so fucking stupid? Those damn photographs. Family albums – all of that shit that I'm never going to have."

Zechs frowned.

"Do you need me to show you how to use your camera phone?"

"What? No, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the past – and the future, too, really. But none of it exists, does it? I'm just trapped here in the present. Alone."

"I wouldn't say that you're alone," Zechs argued.

"No, I'm not alone," Duo agreed, thinking of Heero. But Heero was Heero – and as great as that was, it wasn't Solo. And tonight, all Duo could think about was Solo.

It hit him suddenly that Ethel hadn't bothered with any photos tonight – she hadn't taken any at her's or Duo's birthdays either.

The realization forced a hard lump into Duo's throat. Last year, Ethel had taken photos like crazy – of Duo and Solo, of Solo and Joseph, even of Duo on his own.

Because last year, there had been a future to look forward to. This year… there was nothing.

By the time they reached Duo's apartment he was in such a foul mood that he barely noticed how cold he was.

"Thanks for the company," Duo told Zechs as he fished for his keys.

"Anytime," Zechs told him.

"Any time I'm miserable, at least," Duo muttered.

"You don't have to be miserable, Duo," Zechs told him.

Duo rolled his eyes. It almost sounded like something Wufei had once said to him, and Duo had jumped down his throat at the time. Duo wasn't _choosing_ to be miserable. He _was_ miserable. Life without Solo was miserable, and Duo was choosing to try to survive it.

"I don't want you to be miserable," Zechs added. "And you don't have to be alone tonight."

Duo looked over at him with a frown.

It the darkness and the warm glow of the streetlights, Zechs looked achingly like Solo. Even the way his scarf was wrapped , under the lapel of his jacket with the ends tucked into the back, was the way Solo had worn his scarves.

Zechs closed the distance between them and kissed Duo. The press of his near frozen lips against Duo's own elicited absolutely no feeling in Duo.

But when Zechs nudged Duo's lips open with his tongue and Duo tasted him – his heat and _life_ – Duo pulled Zechs closer, desperate for more contact.

He managed to unlock the door behind him without looking or breaking contact with Zechs' mouth and suddenly they were stumbling inside, out of the cold, and into the bright light and warmth of Duo's apartment.

Duo pushed off Zechs' coat even as Zechs started to unbutton Duo's shirt.

Duo had the urge to touch Zechs' naked skin, to feel his heartbeat, and to press his body against the other, taller man's.

He nearly choked Zechs' in his eagerness to pull off his scarf.

Zechs seemed to share Duo's urgency. Having succeeded in unbuttoning Duo's shirt he had quickly moved on to unzipping his jeans.

Zechs pulled Duo closer, breaking contact with his lips to place kisses along his jaw.

The press of Zechs' warm lips on the skin at the corner of Duo's jaw, just below his ear, shook him. There it was again – that incredibly intimate, incredibly _Solo_ gesture. And wasn't that what Duo wanted? What he _needed_ tonight, of all nights?

Duo put his hands in Zechs' hair, luxuriating in the heavy, silken feel of the blonde strands that were so _much_ like Solo's that if he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath he was sure he would be able to smell his lover.

But when Duo breathed in he was confronted with the sharp scent of Zechs cologne. It was nothing like the spicy, rich, woodsy scent that Solo had worn. It was _nothing_ like Solo.

Zechs wasn't Solo. Solo was dead. Very, very dead. Dead a year ago in eight days.

 _Why am I doing this_? Duo wondered and suddenly the feel of Zechs' large, strong hands caressing his back was anything but arousing.

"Stop. I'm sorry." Duo stepped back, but Zechs resisted for a moment. "I can't do this," Duo added and pulled Zechs' hands away from his body.

The blonde man stared at him in confusion and irritation.

"You were doing fine," Zechs argued and stepped towards him.

"No, no, I wasn't." Duo rebuttoned his shirt. "I was imagining that you were a dead man, Zechs. That's not okay – that's not _fine_. That's pathetic and –"

"Solo? You were imagining that _I_ was _Solo_?" There was a dark thread of anger in Zechs' voice.

"Which is fucked up, I know. And that's why this is a really, really bad idea. I'm sorry. You're a great guy but –"

"But I'm not a dead guy?" Zechs broke in, definitely angry now. "You're still in love with a man who is nothing more than a rotting corpse!"

Duo winced.

"I'm also dating someone," he felt the need to add.

Zechs seemed to freeze.

"Another Solo clone?"

"Ah, no. Heero's nothing like Solo. And – okay, I'm sorry, again. I never should have started this, but this conversation has gone beyond strange and…"

"You're right," Zechs agreed. He started to straighten his clothes. "I think I overestimated you, Duo Maxwell. I certainly hope your _Heero_ doesn't wind up bleeding out in front of a strip club."

With that, Zechs slammed out of the apartment.

"Jesus Christ."

That night Duo's sleep was interrupted with horrifying visions of Solo's body, of all the horrible ways that he could have been attacked and his beautiful skin ruined by the sharp blade of a stranger's knife.

Never before had Duo tried to visualize what Solo must have looked like, and now the images came to his mind, unbidden, and tormented him for hours.

* * *

_The man's dark hair was plastered to his head from the rain and his dark eyes glared forward, filled with pain and anger. But he wasn't submitting. He didn't cry out and beg for mercy – he shouted obscenities and his agonized screams were far from weak._

_In the pale green light of the distant fluorescent lights his skin had taken on an ethereal glow, more sickly than his natural golden color, and when Zechs dragged the knife down his skin to reveal a shallow, bloody tear the blood was a strange, dark violet color that dribbled out in think rivers to stain the man's chest._

_Zechs alternated the depth of his cuts, touching his knife to bone in some and barely tickling the flesh with others._

_The man lasted for hours, much longer than the usual, and even though he never gave in and never begged, Zechs felt invigorated when he finally released the man's pitiful life with one decisive stroke._

_He felt free – liberated for the first time in more than a year._

_He glanced towards the computer, towards Duo Maxwell's smirking face, and smirked back._

_For the past eighteen months he had worshipped Duo from afar – ever since he had first seen him with Solomon Levi one night – and he had taken steps to bring Duo closer to him. He had eliminated the pathetic man and then – it was as if he had freed Duo from some prison. He started to write and the words were clearly meant for Zechs. They completely understood each other – the power and pleasure that came from the exquisite suffering and misery of the weak – and Zechs had spent the last year relishing in Duo's blog posts. He had been inspired and deeply touched and –_

_-and disappointed._

_Duo was supposed to_ understand _. He was supposed to_ need _Zechs just as much as Zechs needed Duo. But recently… in the last two weeks he had completely abandoned his blog and after tonight, it was clear to Zechs that Duo didn't just need help. He needed rescuing. Once again._

* * *

TBC…

* * *

**Chapter 8: Chapter 8**

* * *

I've decided to do a difficult thing, and that is to let some of my unfinished WIPs go.

Unfortunately, this is one of them.

This isn't about a "why didn't people review this more?"

This is about my unfortunate tendency to start ideas, to plot them out in my head, and then find myself drawn to a new idea.

I still have this problem but I'm working on it, and I'm trying to only work on fics that I can commit to finishing. So, I've gone back and updated every fic that I am officially abandoning and calling it complete as well as adding in a final chapter - this chapter.

It's not this fic's fault that I hated it and I wish I had had a better mindset when writing this instead of "seriously? Fine. Fine look here."

A few thoughts on how things would have gone:

Things HAPPEN and in the end, there is a climactic scene where Zechs has kidnapped Heero and is going to kill him and Trowa and Duo rescue him, Zechs goes down, Duo and Heero are happy forever.

Quatre and Hilde have lots of adorable babies.

Trowa is unhappy - oh yes and he and Solo had an affair while Solo was still alive (not when he was dead because Trowa in this fic is meh but he's not THAT meh).


End file.
